The Sins of the Father
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: DMCBaldur's Gate crossover. Dante and Vergil help an elfwoman to stop her descendant from releasing Bhaal's essences, dooming Toril to destruction by demons. Chapters rated individually. Finished!
1. The First Encounter

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

The First Meeting

Natasha looked at the portal swirling within the forest, and sighed softly, regretfully. She should never have to do this, but it was a necessary thing.

To kill her own great-granddaughter….

_She's going to release the power of your sire, and hand Toril to an entirely new set of demons on a silver platter, _she reminded herself. _There is no method you haven't already tried to convince her not to go through with this; killing her is the only way to keep Bhaal's power in a place where it can do no harm. _

But she still couldn't deny the dull ache in her heart at the prospect of killing Laraedina.

Natasha tightly gripped the hilts of Foebane and Answerer, and whispered the necessary spell. She couldn't do this alone, no matter how powerful she was. She needed to enlist the aid of someone who killed these demons for a living, who knew their ways and would be willing to help her hunt down Laraedina and stop her.

The gate swirled crazily for a moment, then flashed open, as red as the blood of her enemies. The spell had locked on to someone with the necessary experience and knowledge.

Natasha took a deep breath, whispered a quick prayer to Corellon Larethian, and entered the portal.

Eerie screams howled through the night air as bullets tore through shadowy forms, the moonlight shining through ragged holes in the demons' hides. The rain of bullets ceased for a moment as a figure garbed in crimson leather shot over the pool of silvery radiance, almost too quick for the eyes of humans to follow, then began again in a non-stop staccato.

The demons raised their scythes and tried to leap onto the devil hunter, but he was gone long before they ever got there. Instead, they met with the unforgiving edge of Rebellion, his treasured sword. Many collapsed into midnight sand where they stood, sliced cleanly in half, their howls of protest ringing in the hunter's ears long after they had disintegrated.

Dante smirked and resheathed his blade. _Too easy!_

"Behind you!"

The voice was unfamiliar, but he obeyed anyway, spinning to face several new demons who had dared to think that they could sneak up on him. But before he could even grab Rebellion's hilt, a whirlwind of silvered steel tore through them, shredding them where they stood. Dante was unable to see exactly who this newcomer was, but he could see that he or she was very good with swords. The demons hadn't stood a chance.

But more came at them, dropping from the sky like hell-spawned meteors. Ebony and Ivory were already in his hands, ripping through the robes and crypt-gray flesh, but the newcomer, it seemed, had a better way.

He still couldn't see him very well, but he did hear some kind of rhythmic, nonsensical babble coming from a pool of shadows cast by the overhang of a nearby building, and a small spark lit the darkness briefly. He sensed the gathering forces of power, and knew that whatever the newbie had in mind, it would be powerful.

He backflipped away just as a bolt of lightning shot across the street, decimating the enemy ranks in an instant.

Dante cussed profoundly; he hadn't expected lightning. He couldn't see a damn thing.

"I believe that's all of them." The newcomer sounded female, but he had never heard a more - what? Musical? - voice in his life. "I apologize for my abrupt entrance, but I saw no other way of getting to speak with you quicker unless I joined in."

Rubbing at his eyes furiously, Dante was soon able to make out the newbie. Whoever it was, she was obviously female. "C'mon out of the shadows. I can't see you."

She stepped out into the moonlight, and Dante felt his jaw drop. He had expected a lot of things, but this wasn't one of them!

For one thing, the woman was absolutely gorgeous. She was a little on the short side, but had one of the best figures he'd ever seen. Skin as pale as the moon she stood in, waist-length hair blacker than midnight, eyes like emeralds splashed with droplets of gold…. When had he last seen a woman this beautiful?

But what also drew his attention was her attire. This girl looked like she had come straight out of a Renaissance Faire. She wore a silvery cloak, tooled leather boots, leather gauntlets, a headband of green leather, and green chain-mail that seemed to be glowing softly, pulsing with gentle light. There was an azure bag tied with crimson string on her belt, and two swords were strapped to her sides. He could tell just by looking at them that they were extremely powerful blades.

What was a woman like her doing fighting demons in that getup?

"No guns, huh? Must be pretty cocky, to not want gunfire," he commented, looking her up and down with an experienced eye.

She gave him a questioning look. "What are 'guns?'"

That one comment nearly made him fall over. "Jeez, where have you been for the past few centuries?" he wondered. "And for that matter, what is a chick like you doing fighting demons anyway?"

"So those are the demons." The woman ran a hand through her hair, not catching Dante's startled look. "As for my reasons, I shall tell you later, when we have reached a place of safety. Tell me, is there anywhere nearby where we could talk? An inn, perhaps, or a tavern?"

This woman just kept the surprises coming, it seemed. Dante shoved a hand through his silvery hair, and started away. "Yeah, I do. My shop is safe. C'mon."

As they started away, he couldn't help himself. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"Abeir-Toril, another world far removed from this one. What is this world called?"

Surprise of all surprises, she was a freaking _alien_. Dante really wasn't all that surprised. _Man, Vergil's gonna eat this up……_

It had been a peaceful evening for Vergil. His brother had gone out to some bar several hours ago, and he had been left to his own devices for the night. Currently he was relaxing on one of the couches with a favorite book, a cup of tea, and a cd of classical music playing on the stereo. _So much better, whenever Dante's out_, he thought contentedly as he turned the page. _The Count of Monte Cristo_, one of his favorite classics.

"Crappy music, bro."

Vergil rolled his eyes as the door slammed open, heralding the entrance of his little brother into Devil May Cry. "I thought you were going to be out all night," he commented sardonically, getting up to turn off the stereo. "It has only been a few hours since your departure. Has your sense of time gotten so bad as to mistake a few hours for an entire night?"

"Nope. Some old friends dropped in, I kicked ass, and decided to come home. Met an alien chick on the way back." Dante gestured to the door, drawing Vergil's attention to a woman stunning enough to draw even his eye in admiration.

And more than a little bit of lust.

"Are we safe here?" she asked. Her voice was like music, beautifully pitched and utterly perfect, a symphony out of her throat.

"Safer than we were out there." Dante dropped into his desk-chair, tipping back the chair and resting his legs on the desk, as always. "Now, are you gonna tell us why it was so important that I bring you here?"

"Have you no manners at all, brother?" Vergil chided. "What's her name?"

Dante shrugged.

The elder brother sighed. It was just like his younger twin to bring a lady home without even asking her name. "What are you called? I am Vergil, he is Dante."

"Natasha Nightsinger of Candlekeep, once Natasha Delryn of Athkatla." She looked around somewhat warily, and pushed her hair back from one ear. Vergil was somewhat shocked to notice the pointed tip of that ear. "I have….business of some urgency to speak of with you both."

"What's the job?" Dante asked from the desk. "And what the fuck is Candlekeep?"

"I already told you, I am from Abeir-Toril. This is not my world, and I shall return to Toril once my work is complete. To that end, I require your aid. I have already seen how skilled in battle you are, Dante, and I can only assume that your brother is likewise skilled. Will you hear me out?"

"See? Wha'd I tell you? She's an alien."

Vergil sighed again. His brother was so dense sometimes. "She's not an alien, brother. She's an elf." He turned to the woman. "Am I right, Natasha?"

"Aye, you are correct. A moon elf, to be exact."

Dante threw his head back. "Why are the beautiful chicks always the ones who aren't human?"

"Shut up, Dante." Vergil nodded to the woman. "If you will have a seat, we will hear you out."

"Thank you for your courtesy." She made herself comfortable on the other sofa, taking care to sit so her swords wouldn't inconvenience her or poke holes in the furniture. "I have need of your aid, if my spells pointed me in the correct direction. You both have experience with the slaying of demons in this world, am I correct?"

Both brothers nodded. Vergil sat back down across from her, suddenly very interested in what she had to say.

"It's a long tale, but it is necessary that you hear me out. See, in a way, this is very much all my fault…."

DDQ: _Oooo, if there's anyone out there reading this who's played the Baldur's Gate games, they can probably already see where this is leading! Review please, or (grabs hold of Dante, pulls Ivory out of its holster) the demon hunter gets it! _

Dante:_ No, I can't be hurt by bullets, but she's pretty damn creative as to exactly where she shoots!_

Vergil:_ Please leave a review while I separate these two maniacs… (drags Queen and Dante out of room, readers hear Yamato leaving its sheath). _


	2. Echoes of the Past

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world. WARNING: this chapter contains some spoilers for the Baldur's Gate games!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

Echoes of the Past

"This whole mess was begun more than four centuries ago, when my sire, the god of murder Bhaal, foresaw his inevitable death during the Time of Troubles. To ensure his rebirth, he chose from his entire clergy females of great power, his greatest Deathstalkers and most capable assassins. These females were told that they had been chosen to give birth to his prodigy, the Children of Bhaal. Each of these Bhaalspawn would be given at conception a portion of Bhaal's essence, the powers of his godhood. After his death, they would all be sacrificed in his name with the proper rituals, so that he could regain his lost essences and so be born anew where other gods would remain dust. The females were offered great power for their part, to carry his cursed offspring. Each of them agreed to it."

Natasha hung her head. "One of those women was Alianna Bloodknife, an elf maiden from the High Forest. She was my mother. I was one of the Bhaalspawn."

Dante and Vergil gave each other looks of disbelief. This sounded strangely familiar…

"A lot of things happened, but suffice it to say that the sacrifices were interrupted before too many of us were slain. I was taken in as a foster child by Gorion the Sage, one of the men who had stopped the sacrifice. Gorion, in fact, was the one who slew my mother. But I never knew that until long after he was dead, slain by one of my half-brothers, another Bhaalspawn named Sarevok. I was sheltered for my entire childhood, until I was twenty. Gorion was killed that year, and I was forced onto the road at an age when most elves are still considered children. Due to my tainted blood, I had grown and matured at the speed of human development rather than elven. I think that, and my lust for revenge, were all that kept me alive in those first few months.

"Sarevok died at my hand, and I and my companions traveled together through many adventures. I found out along the way that one of my best friends, a human girl named Imoen who had likewise been sheltered at Candlekeep, was also a Child of Bhaal. We had many adventures together, some good, some bad, but through it all both of us were tormented by our blood. Being a Bhaalspawn meant that we were touched with the essence of murder. Everything we came into contact with would die early. All the people we met, the ones we hated, the ones we traveled with, even the ones we loved were not spared the curse of our taint. We were powerful and feared, but what is power if one must go on alone? When I first transformed into the Slayer, I knew that I had to free myself of my father's taint."

"Wait a minute." Vergil held up one gloved hand. "What is this 'Slayer' you speak of? Is it a demon?"

"No, it is something far worse than any demon." Natasha traced a sigil in the air, and a man-sized illusion appeared before her, a fearsome image that caused both of the twins to draw back. It looked vaguely insectoid, a creature with a mottled red-black carapace, spines like needles sticking out of its back and head, and four arms. An enormous set of jaws rested atop a long, spindly neck, and teeth as long and sharp as curved daggers dripped poisonous-looking yellow slime from its maw. The legs were bent the wrong way, and the feet were huge with only three toes. Even for the two devil hunters, who had fought monstrosities for most of their adult lives, this was a creature spawned from the darkest of nightmares. "The Slayer was the avatar of Bhaal during the Time of Troubles, when the gods were forced into mortal form until the Tablets of Fate were recovered and given back into the care of Ao, the Overfather. This is the thing my mother coupled with to conceive me, and this is the monster I transformed into when Jon Irenicus stole my soul. Even after I slew him and retrieved my soul, I retained this ability, to transform at will into the Slayer."

She waved her arm, and the illusion went away in a puff of smoke. "It was a powerful form, but merely using it tested my sanity. The only thought in that beast's mind was to kill, to murder in the most exquisitely painful manner possible. I tried to avoid using it whenever possible, but there were times when it was unavoidable to transform into the Slayer. When I was in that form, I had to use every ounce of willpower I had to keep from killing my companions. The Slayer is what convinced me, more than anything, to somehow rid myself of Bhaal's taint, lest I lose control and kill everything I had ever held dear.

"Eventually, the time of Alaundo's Prophecy came to fruition, and the most powerful Bhaalspawn, the Five, began rounding up and slaying all the lesser Bhaalspawn. So many innocent lives were lost….If anyone was even suspected of harboring the taint, they were cast out of their homes and given to the Five, as sheep to the wolves. In places, the rivers literally ran red with the blood of those born not innocent." Natasha closed her eyes, steadying her nerves. "Imoen and I, and our companions, hunted down the members of the Five one by one, and killed them all. However, this meant that more and more of the essences were returned to the collection-pits in the Throne of Blood, the home of our father in the Abyss. At last, only Imoen and I remained. All the other Bhaalspawn had been killed."

"So Bhaal was resurrected?" Dante asked, cleaning some sand off Ivory.

Natasha shook her head. "No. The secrets of his resurrection had been given to his highest matriarch, his most powerful Deathstalker, Amelyssan the Blackhearted. She had harbored his avatar in the Time of Troubles, providing him with a body to mold into the Slayer before his death at the hands of Cyric, the human assassin who would replace him as the god of murder, among others. During the Bhaalspawn War, she masqueraded as Melissan, a woman who hoped to stop Bhaal's resurrection by protecting his children. But her motives were darker than anyone suspected. She led the Five to their weaker siblings, and then when I appeared she directed me to their lairs. No one suspected the truth until it was too late."

"She betrayed you, and took over the Throne of Blood," Vergil stated.

"Yes. However, as long as a true Bhaalspawn remained, she could not become a full goddess. It was a tough fight, but in the end we were victorious. Amelyssan was defeated, and I was given the choice of accepting my father's essences, and becoming the Lady of Murder." Natasha stared at her hands, clenching them softly. "I chose to give up my portion of the essences, as did Imoen, to live a mortal life free of the taint. After Amelyssan's soul was destroyed to set free the collected essences, the gods took care of them. The essence, the power, of Bhaal was hidden away atop Mount Celestial, the stronghold of the gods. It was supposed to be safe there, where it could do no harm ever again…"

"But…." Dante prompted.

"Laraedina has other ideas.

"Laraedina is my great-granddaughter, the descendant of my third child with my husband, a human named Anomen Delryn. He, as well as Sean and the other four children I gave him, has been dead for many, many years. I do not know the specifics of Laraedina's upbringing, but I know that her mother killed her father, my grandson, and took her away to raise her as she pleased. Somehow, Laraedina got the idea that, because I had turned down Bhaal's power, the essences are hers by birthright. However, there is no one on Toril, or on the other planes of existence with both the power and the willingness to undo the seals binding Bhaal's essences."

"She needs someone who does not know the damage that will cause."

"Aye, that is right." The elf-woman gave Vergil a sad smile, causing Dante to purse his lips jealously. "There are demons of your Demonic World with the necessary power, and she has a bargain to offer them. If they will help her gain Bhaal's essence, and become the Lady of Murder, they will have a brand new world to march upon, a world that is more accustomed to a different kind of demon. All of the safeguards and disposal methods of my world are designed for the demons of the Abyss, and the devils of the Nine Hells. They would be powerless, or nearly ineffective, against the demons of your world. Easy pickings.

"That is why I need your help. I am one of the most powerful beings on Toril, but I know next to nothing of the demons of this world. Laraedina escaped me before, and so I must hunt her down and stop her before it is too late. I need the aid of people who have hunted and slain this kind of demon, people such as yourselves. I can pay you, if that is what you ask for, but I need your help. Will you aid me?"

She looked at them so pleadingly, so hopefully, that their latent protective instincts were stirred. The brothers looked at each other, and then nodded.

"Sure thing, babe. Saving the world's our specialty, even if it ain't our own," Dante drawled, twirling Ivory.

"Consider us your allies, Natasha." Vergil bowed his neck. "We will help you."

She smiled again, and this time the brothers were struck by how much more beautiful she was when she smiled. "You have my gratitude. Now, I would ask that you explain something to me…"

"Ask away, babe."

"Are you demons, or at least of the blood? Foebane has not stopped vibrating ever since I met you, Dante, and its reverberations only got stronger when you brought me here." The question seemed innocent, but there was a knowing gleam in her eye. "Are you tieflings?"

"I am unfamiliar with that word," Vergil replied.

"Half-demons."

There was an awkward silence. Natasha nodded.

"I see that you are. You know something of that which I speak, then. To be born with both power and evil coursing through your veins…..It is both a blessing and a curse, is it not?"

She didn't flinch when Yamato nicked her throat, and a bullet dug into the wall barely an inch away from her skull.

"Do not mention our blood again, if you value your life." Vergil's voice was cold, a cobra's warning. He slid his katana away slowly, his cerulean eyes never leaving her gold-and-green orbs. Natasha could also feel Dante's chilly gaze upon her, even though she could only see him at the very edge of her peripheral vision. She nodded slowly.

"Kindred spirits from another world. Who would have believed it?"

Vergil eyed her warily. "What are you talking about?"

"My father was the Lord of Murder, a god who resided in the Abyss and ruled over several demons. One of the most ruthless and horrific gods ever known to any of the pantheons. My mother was one of his highest priestesses, and she would have torn out my heart with her own hands if it would have brought him back. Strange, then, that my spell led me to you."

The understanding, the sympathy, was there in her eyes. Vergil had to turn away, unable to face that gentle knowledge.

"Might I ask how?" she queried softly.

"Dad was a demon turned good. Mom was human," Dante said flatly. "That's all the beans I'm spilling for now."

She nodded slowly. "You had it better than I, no matter what you believe," she said quietly. "My hands are stained with the blood of my siblings, of people I cared about, and innocents who died simply because they called me their friend. An entire city was destroyed simply because I set foot therein. My mother would have sacrificed me in my father's name, and my father sired me only as a means of his resurrection. Outside of the prophecy, I was never to have been born in the first place. My own foster father, the first person to ever care about me, died defending me from a brother I later killed. Even now, centuries later, there are still people who try to kill me simply because I once had the blood of Bhaal coursing though my veins, and Bhaalspawn were responsible for the death of someone they held dear. Never will I know true peace in my life, due to the sins of my father." Natasha stood up. "Do you know of any place I could spend the night, and recover my lost spells?"

"Sure. You can take my room, if you want." Dante took her upstairs to his room, overriding her protests by telling her that he would sleep on the couch as he usually did, and that because she was a guest she should have the most comfortable bed in the shop (outside of Vergil's, that is). She was more tired than she seemed, because she willingly followed his lead and went to sleep in his room (after Dante showed her how the bathroom worked).

When Dante came back downstairs, Vergil was laying on the couch once more, lost in thought. He looked up as his twin settled onto the other couch. "So do you believe her?"

"Her story does seem a bit outrageous," Dante conceded. "But her fighting abilities alone convinced me that there might be some truth to her story. Besides, she obviously isn't human. No devil I've ever seen has had pointed ears."

"Think we should do a Search on that girl she mentioned, Laraedina?"

"She said she'd do one in the morning, once she's studied the spell. Besides, I don't think a Search would work too well. From what she said, Laraedina doesn't have demon blood in her, and a Search only works on those of the blood." Dante stretched, and lay back on the sofa, squirming around until he was more comfortable. "Gotta replace this piece of shit. The springs are poking out again. You should get her to spar with you, Vergil. She's pretty amazing in combat."

"There is no one to equal my skill, brother."

Dante grinned; he wasn't so sure about that. From what he'd seen earlier, Natasha could at least give his older twin a good run for his money. Feeling suddenly tired, he dropped his head back onto the armrest. "G'night, Vergil. Don't stay up too late, okay?"

Vergil grunted a reply, and rose to go upstairs. On the way to his room, he peeked into his brother's room, where Natasha lay sleeping.

Well, not exactly sleeping. She lay flat on her back in the middle of the bed, her chest rising and falling in the easy rhythms of nighttime repose, but her gold-flecked green eyes remained wide open, and her hands were folded upon her trim belly. She'd stripped down to her tunic before climbing into the bed, and Vergil noticed that it was the same deep, rich green as her eyes. _Must be her favorite color._

He found it slightly creepy that she could sleep with her eyes open.

Just as he began to close the door, she whimpered softly. He looked back inside, to see her rolling her head slightly upon the pillow, quiet sounds of distress issuing from her throat.

She was having a nightmare.

The noises were growing louder by increments. Eventually, even his ignorant brother would be able to hear them. And who knew what that lech might do to a helpless woman, locked within her nightmares and unable to resist?

Besides, his room was right next-door. He didn't want to have to listen to this all night.

Vergil crossed the room as quietly as possible, avoiding the piles of mess and trash and clothes with all the grace of a dancer. Upon reaching the bed, he reached out a careful hand to stroke Natasha's wealth of blue-black hair, a soothing gesture his mother had always used when he and Dante were little and suffered from bad dreams.

Her hair was softer, warmer, than he would have believed possible. Soon, he found himself petting it for no reason other than sheer enjoyment, as she quieted down at his touch. A tiny smile graced her rosy lips.

He imagined what it might be like to kiss those soft lips, to feel her silken hair against more than just his hand.

_Vergil, stop it!_ he commanded himself, stumbling away from the bed. He barely knew this woman, and besides, it was beneath a true warrior to find release in a woman. Pleasures of the flesh were to be enjoyed only by lesser folk, such as his brother. He refused to be a lesser being. He refused to place himself on the same level as his twin.

He left the room a minute later, without looking back.

But whatever the mind might want, the subconscious will not always obey. Vergil could stop himself from thinking such base thoughts, but he could not stop the dreams.

Queen: _And so we have the back-story, and things seem to be heating up between our heroes, even if Natasha isn't aware of it! Where can I take this, I wonder…_

Vergil: _She'd take it nowhere, if I was the one writing this piece of fictional artistry…_

Dante_: Hey, he finally admitted that this isn't crap after all! _

Vergil:_ Mockery! I meant MOCKERY!!!_

Dante: _Too late, you already said it._

Vergil: _I can take it back, you moron! (tackles Dante)_

Queen (over the sounds of wrestling and breaking furniture): _Might as well leave a review. That might just be the only thing that will stop these two now! HEY! Watch the computer! Dante! Vergil! Don't…_

(sounds of breaking glass and static. Transmission cut off.)


	3. Fires of Hatred

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**BTW**: Thanks for the review, Rashaan Butler! Yes, things will be heating up between our heroes; Natasha always seems to have men fighting over her, even when she doesn't want them to. As for fight scenes, isn't it always best to allow the imagination to take you where it will, with only rudimentary comments from the author? My other fan-fic relies on some imaginative concessions as well. And yes, Toril is very interesting. I'd advise playing it, but I certainly can't tell you what to do…. Or can I?

Fires of Hatred

Laraedina walked confidently through the swirling mist of her benefactors' appointed meeting place. She couldn't afford to display weakness here, not if she hoped to gain the demons' aid. Weakness of any kind would only get her eaten.

"So, you are the puny mortal who has offered such a tempting treat." The voice was low, sultry. A demoness, hidden in the shadows. "Although, I'd say that you would be tasty enough, even without the offer you have made us."

"Ahh, but conquest of a new world, is that not more delightful than the taste of her sweet flesh, her salty blood?" Another voice, this one male, tinged with dark amusement.

"You are correct, my brother, as always. The meat of a thousand helpless souls is always sweeter than one."

Laraedina listened to the conversation with patience she rarely displayed. These beings could kill her with a word; it would do well to keep them happy. She was powerful, but they could use magic foreign to her. She would have little defense against their assault here.

"Then we agree on the taste of helpless souls," she boldly spoke up.

The shadows moved, and the female sauntered into view. Pale of flesh with deep blue hair and eyes like dripping blood, she was both lovely and disturbing to look upon. It didn't help that she was dressed only in a few chains of black metal, hooks as sharp as razors hanging from the thin chains like charms on a bracelet. She smiled wickedly, displaying teeth like jagged knives. "Ah, but you cannot feast upon a soul, mortal. You can use them to empower your spells, but we can feed on them as if they were meat. The sweetest meat there ever was, because a soul doesn't die, even when you have finished its shell. They scream and beg and plead even as your teeth tear them apart and gulp them down your smooth throat."

She licked her lips with a forked tongue, and Laraedina was reminded of the book she had found this pair's names in. The pictures of the female had been exquisitely done, and every detail matched her appearance. Ssalinisthiira, that was her true name. Her common name was Ssaliira.

Her brother stepped out of the shadows, and Laraedina realized that the artist, whoever he had been, had gotten the details of Ssaliira's brother correct as well. Tlaneskiar, or Tlane, had black skin and white hair, his eyes as bloody as his sister's. A full head taller than the female, he was thickly muscled, and a pair of bat-like wings leisurely flexed upon his back. He wore a robe of blood-spattered gray fabric, cut short to allow his legs maximum freedom of movement in a fight. "It has been long years since we have had our fill of souls. For that alone, you have gained our ear." He folded his arms across his wide chest, fixing her with a gaze that a lesser mortal would have crumpled beneath. "Tell us why you would offer us this new world. What do you need our aid to accomplish? Be sure to tell us everything; your words determine the remaining span of your life."

Laraedina didn't flinch. She had had plenty of practice in dealing with demons. Really, the demons of her multiverse and the demons of this universe were not so different, at least in terms of mannerisms. "I seek to gain power, the power of my ancestor. That power is mine by birthright, but the gods of my world have selfishly hidden it away, where I am unable to retrieve it alone. That is why I require your aid, Mighty Siblings of Darkest Hell. Apart from your Prince of Darkness, only you have the necessary power to help me undo the seals and retrieve my ancestor's power from their captivity. Only you can help me defy the idiotic gods of my world, and claim the power that is rightfully mine."

Both of the demons preened at this. Laraedina took note of it, even while continuing her carefully-constructed story. Ego-stroking applied to demons as well as red dragons, it seemed.

"As you already know, in return for your aid I offer you a new world that is nigh defenseless against your might. No, more than that, I can offer you the entire multiverse. Once Toril has fallen to you and your forces, the other Planes of Existence will fall easy prey to you. The celestials and infernals will not believe that they can be defeated; the demons of the Abyss and the devils of the Nine Hells in particular are no match for you." She spread her arms wide, noting the slightly glazed looks in the demons' eyes. They were fantasizing about the bloodshed they could cause on her world, as well as the others. "How many souls have you feasted upon at one time? It does not matter; the feast I offer you will satisfy you for millennia before you must hunt again. Truly a feast worthy of demons as powerful and majestic as yourselves." She lowered her hands. "What say you?"

Tlane looked at Ssaliira. They exchanged evil smiles, and Tlane's right wing stretched out to stroke his sister's naked back. "We agree. Should we seal it in blood-pact?"

"Ground blood-pact, not flesh blood-pact. Should you break the agreement, your home will be forever closed to you both." The elf-maiden looked them in the eye unflinchingly. She would not display weakness, but she certainly didn't want to share blood with these two. Their blood was said to be poison. Instant agonizing death.

The demons' fangs gleamed in the light cast by the pool of glowing blood that lit their domain. "Agreed," Ssaliira purred.

The demons bit open their wrists and Laraedina used her dagger, the Boneblade, to slice open her veins. Their blood spilt on the ground, and mingled in a red-black puddle. There was a flash of light, and the ground split open, swallowing the blood like a mouth.

It was done. The deal was made.

As Laraedina followed her partners back to the center of their domain, where she would be safe from the lesser demons that served them, her thoughts drifted to her great-grandmother, Natasha.

Her lip curled in a hateful sneer.

She would enjoy killing that weak bitch.

Queen:_ At last we meet the elusive Laraedina! And her benefactors as well. Trust me, Tlane and Ssaliira are a lot more powerful than one might expect._

Vergil: _Worthy opponents, both of them. Killing them will be fun._

Dante:_ For once, we agree on something._

Queen: _Nice to see that you boys are getting along for once. Now be good while I begin the next chapter, and don't try to break those chains. I can't have you breaking the computer again, after all._

Vergil: (mumbles something unprintable)

Dante: _Leave a f$! review, or she'll never let us out of these chairs! Please?_


	4. One on One

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

One on One

Natasha awoke from the Reverie close to sunrise, as she always did. It seemed that Time ran similar on this world, and for that she was grateful. Sunrise and moonrise were her two favorite times of the day.

Dressing in a fresh tunic and combing out her hair with her fingers, the elf-woman grabbed her twin swords and went out back, hoping to watch the sunrise.

But there was something far more interesting to watch than the sun.

Vergil was practicing with his katana.

Natasha paused in the doorway and watched him, enthralled by his slow movements, his unconscious display of perfect mastery, perfect harmony with his blade. Silhouetted against the rising sun, he seemed even more of the perfect warrior, some figment left over from the dawn of time itself….

A god in mortal form.

She shook the images away as he finished his routines, and strolled out to speak with him. Natasha suddenly felt the need for a good sparring match.

He looked at her with unreadable eyes as she approached. Like the elf-woman, Vergil was wearing only lighter fabrics. Pants, boots, and a shirt were all he wore during this daily ritual, if he wore a shirt at all. "Did you need something?" he queried, sliding Yamato back into its sheath and reaching for a towel.

"Actually, I was hoping to spar with you." Natasha unsheathed Foebane and Answerer, twirled them in her hands experimentally. "I prefer to learn of my companions' fighting abilities before I depend upon them in battle. Is it not better to know if you will be fighting alongside a master rather than a novice ahead of time?" She gave him an appraising look as he toweled off the sweat on his face and arms. "I can see that you have some skill that that blade, but I would like to know the full measure of your abilities. What say you?"

Vergil cocked an eyebrow at her. "Agreed. But how do you intend to keep from harming me, or me killing you? You do not wear you armor, Natasha."

She smiled, and pulled something out of a bag hanging at her side, this one purple with a green cord. "I can cast a spell upon you and I, a spell that will encase your flesh in stone. You will still be able to move as if it were not there, but my slices will not cut your skin. The shock of the blows will be transmitted directly to your bones, but it is better than dying merely from a sparring match. At least until the spell wears off. It can only block so many hits." Silvery dust glittered in her cupped hand as she moved towards him, stopping only a short distance away. "Will you allow me to cast the spell?"

The half-demon considered her for a moment. He knew nothing of a protective spell that could do such a thing, but then again, she wielded a foreign magic, unlike any found on Earth. Perhaps she could do such a thing. "Yes. Cast your spell, and let us begin."

She nodded, and closed her eyes in concentration. Musical syllables of gibberish spilled from her lips, and she sprinkled the dust over their heads. Vergil felt a slight chill, and looked down at his skin.

Then did a double-take.

Every inch of him, including his clothes, had turned alabaster-white.

Natasha had too, he realized. Only her eyes remained their original color, perfect emeralds and golden dust shining from palest stone. He imagined that he was much the same way, a living statue with gemstones for eyes.

_How fitting for me…_he thought. _But utter sacrilege for her._

Natasha took a few steps back, and readied her blades. "What's wrong? Are you afraid the spell won't work?" She settled into a fighter's crouch, her smile wide upon her pale face. "Come on, then! Test it out!"

Yamato hissed from its sheath, and Vergil raced for her, fully intending to slice the offensive rock off of her skinny frame before she could react.

His momentum stopped, when he realized that she had caught Yamato in a perfect cross, parrying with two blades an attack that had never failed him before. He stared into her eyes, amazed that she could stop that attack, and realized that he had underestimated her.

He evaded her kicking foot with a perfect back-kickflip, landing a short distance away from her and preparing himself for her charge.

His grin mirrored her own.

_This is gonna be fun_.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Dante awoke to the sound of metal clashing against metal, a sound familiar to anyone who made use of a sword. He knew Vergil would be out back, doing his daily thing with Yamato, and he figured that Natasha had challenged him to a sparring match. He'd seen the fire in her eyes last night, when he had first met her. She would enjoy a good match against his brother, and Vergil would enjoy a new opponent to test his skills. Dante would bet his entire life-savings on it.

With that thought in mind, he strolled into the bathroom to begin his own morning ritual.

The sounds of a swordfight still echoed through Devil May Cry when he finally exited the bathroom and headed into the kitchen, wondering if there was any pizza left from yesterday. He grabbed a slice and wandered outside, settling onto the solitary lounge-chair on the pathetically tiny back porch to watch the show.

The fight raged around the yard, neither elf nor half-demon giving a single inch. Natasha was possessed of truly amazing agility, and she used this to her advantage, constantly rolling with parries and cutting at Vergil from totally unexpected angles with the speed of a striking serpent, or flipping over his head and away from Yamato, slicing at his unprotected back or charging back into combat before he had a chance to breathe. Her speed was fully the equal of his own, and Dante could see that she was, at the very least, his brother's equal.

But Vergil was possessed of more than a few tricks of his own. A cunning and supremely skilled fighter, he had already figured out how to use some of Natasha's attacks against her, setting her up for counterstrikes she only just managed to parry, if she caught them at all. Like her, he used agility to avoid most of her attacks, or he simply used his teleportive abilities to get away and drop in on her from above or behind. Neither of them had landed many hits thus far.

The three blades crashed together once more, the force of the block throwing both combatants several yards apart. Vergil sped towards her once more, Yamato slicing through the air in a deadly, unavoidable web of silvered steel. Dante held his breath; that maneuver was his own undoing more often than anything else his brother was capable of. Natasha, racing towards his attacking twin, was surely doomed to lose.

But like Vergil, he had underestimated the elf-woman.

Without warning, she dropped to her knees and spun to the side, avoiding a slash that would have sliced her neck open, and slashed hard at Vergil's vulnerable back, then threw herself into a flipping back-kick for good measure. Her blades and her foot connected hard, and Vergil went sprawling. Before he could even turn over, Natasha was straddling his back, her blades crossed before his throat in an unmistakable threat. He stopped moving.

"Give up?" she asked, quirking a brow at him playfully.

"Give up? No. Concede victory to a worthy opponent? Yes." She took the blades away and let him up, staying well out of Yamato's reach. Vergil cleaned the blade off and looked at her questioningly as he resheathed the katana. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Natasha grinned, resheathing her blades with a flourish. "I have more than four hundred years' experience with the sword, my friend. You don't travel that long without picking up some tricks, and I have killed more than my fair share of monsters, demons, and so-called swords-masters."

Vergil nodded, and the stoneskins melted away, reverting them back to their original appearance. _She's the first woman to have ever beaten me. I wonder how skilled she is in other arenas? Such as the bedroom?_

She was likewise eyeing him thoughtfully, considering. _Such a handsome man, and one of the most skilled fighters I have ever met. But he's so cold…Is there any way to warm him up, I wonder?_

Their silent reveries were broken by a series of whistles and claps from the tiny porch. Their eyes went to Dante, who was applauding them. "A truly masterful performance! Encore, I say! Encore!"

Natasha had to grin. Dante reminded her of Imoen, her long-dead half-sister and best friend.

Vergil merely scowled at his intruding twin. He seemed to have a knack for showing up at the most inappropriate, uncomfortable times.

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch us?" he asked, trying hard to kill his twin with only his glare. It failed; Dante didn't suffer heart arrest and die on the spot.

"Nope. The only plans I had for this morning involve helping Natasha here find her little hellraiser." Dante took a bite of his pizza, and Vergil frowned. He still couldn't understand exactly why his brother was so enamored of that disgusting mixture of bread, tomato sauce, cheese, mushrooms, and pepperoni. Pizza only gave him heartburn.

"I still need to study the spell. Is there anything to eat? I am a little hungry."

Dante held up his pizza slice. Natasha wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"How about something a little more…traditional? Like actual breakfast food?"

"I can make you something. Pizza isn't exactly something I like, either," Vergil offered. He had long since come to the conclusion that, if he was going to ever partake of nutritious food, he had to cook his own meals. Dante was forbidden to ever touch the microwave or the stove ever again. One exploding appliance was more then enough for Vergil to deal with in his lifetime. Thank God they had finally replaced the toaster, or Dante would have been dead several times over by now. Vergil was a bear to deal with in the mornings if he didn't get his toasted English muffin.

"I'd like that." Natasha rewarded him with a smile as she disappeared through the door and up the stairs.

Dante noticed the slightest tinge of pink creep into his brother's face. _He's blushing! Where's a camera when I need one?_ He sidled up to his elder twin. "So…anything new?"

"No. Nothing new." _Aside from the fact that I think I may be falling for an elf-woman who is going to leave me as soon as she kills her great-granddaughter._

"Wanna come upstairs with me and try to catch her in her underwear?" Dante waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe we could have a threesome before the sun gets too high."

Vergil snarled; Dante looked down at Yamato, now impaled through his left shoulder.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha was memorizing her spells when Vergil brought her breakfast. She looked up as he opened the door, and set her spellbook aside, taking the tray and setting in on the pillow beside her.

"Thank you, Vergil. You are most kind," she said, looking over the meal. Fried eggs, toast, and bacon. One of her favorite breakfast combinations.

"We do not have ale or wine, only old beer. I hope milk will suffice," Vergil replied. _Nobody's ever said I was kind before._

"Milk is fine." Natasha rewarded him with another smile, and Vergil felt another blush creeping over his skin. Thankfully, the elf-woman didn't notice. She bit into a piece of bacon and picked up the leather-bound tome, studying it intently.

He tried to look at the symbols inscribed on the pages, but Natasha saw this and slammed the book shut. "Do not do that again!"

He blinked. "Why not?"

"You are not skilled with the arcane arts. Magical runes attack the eyes of the untrained." She looked at him, a pleading look in her eyes. "It could make you go insane, or cause you to lose your sight. That would be a great tragedy, for you."

Vergil felt transfixed by her gold-and-green eyes, and slowly sat in the empty space between her and the footboard. A lock of hair had fallen across her face; he reached out to smooth it back. "Why would it be a great tragedy?"

She trembled lightly at his touch. He was so handsome, and it had been so long… "To be enveloped in everlasting darkness, to never be able to collect your scattered thoughts enough to fully understand or be understood by any save the nightmares which torment your shattered mind, is always a tragedy."

"I would agree, but…" He leaned closer to her, his face only inches from her own. "Thinking is sometimes overrated."

Her breath shuddered out in a whisper. "Aye."

He was going to kiss her. At that moment, so close to her, the epitome of female perfection, his pursuit of complete weapons mastery, of becoming the perfect warrior, seemed petty indeed compared to a physical merging with the woman before him. Even his former dreams of absolute power seemed small compared to this…

He reached out to touch her hair, guiding her closer to him. Their eyes closed in anticipation of their kiss…

"Natasha! You ready to Search?"

Dante's voice was a splash of cold water, cooling their ardor and prying them apart. Natasha blushed furiously and went back to her spellbook, furiously shoveling eggs into her mouth to cover her embarrassment. Vergil snarled, and stood up to go downstairs. He wanted to _kill_ his idiotic younger twin. "What should I tell him?" he gritted out.

"Tell him I'm almost finished. I'll be down soon." Her hair fell forward as she ducked her head, hiding her face from the half-demon.

He nodded, and bent closer to her. "Don't think I won't finish this at a later time, Natasha. I finish what I start," he hissed into her ear.

Natasha said nothing. He turned and left the room, tromping downstairs loud enough to shake the stairs.

Yamato once more found a sheath in Dante's shoulder. Vergil tore his treasured katana out of his brother's flesh with a guttural snarl, and stormed outside, leaving Dante to stare after him.

"What the fuck was that for?"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _I'm usually not good at writing fight scenes, so if this sparring match sucked, I apologize! I only had Vergil to help me with this one!_

Vergil: _At least she got some of my attacks straight, although I do not appreciate the idea of me sprawling shirtless in the mud. _

Dante:_ Actually, that was pretty funny. _

(Yamato hisses from sheath)

Vergil:_ Say it again, brother…_

Queen: _Guys, don't do this right now! It's Halloween! Shouldn't you be getting ready to go?_

Dante: _Candy…Mmmm…_

Vergil: _We are far too old for trick-or-treat, Dante. _

Dante: _But I look so good as a vampire!_

Queen: _He's right about that, Vergil…_

Vergil (throws hands up in air, cutting apart ceiling with Yamato. Plaster rains down upon our heroes): _Fine. If you two want to rot your teeth on candy and act like idiots, then that's your prerogative. I'm staying here. _

Queen: _Which means you get to clean up this mess. _

Vergil: _Now wait just a damn minute…_

(Queen and Dante race out of computer room, laughing like maniacs. Vergil fumes.)

Vergil: _Just wait 'till I get my hands on them… _


	5. Contacting the Spirits

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world. BTW, this chapter is rated M for sex and language. Don't like it, sorry, but this is what the muses (and the twins) gave me. Deepest apologies (crosses fingers behind back)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Reply**: I totally agree, **Rashaan Butler** (thanks for reading, by the way!). Power is the worst drug known to man or demon, more addictive than the purest cocaine or opium. That phrase keeps running through my head every single time I play through the first Vergil fight in DMC3… As for how cruel Ssaliira and Tlane can be, you'll find out soon enough….

Contacting the Spirits

Natasha finally came down the stairs around 1 pm, carrying the empty tray with her. Vergil was nowhere to be seen, and Dante sat at his desk, cleaning Rebellion with an oiled cloth. He gave her a smirk as she approached, laying the tray on the sofa en route to his desk.

"Ready?"

"Aye. I am prepared to cast the spells and inquire of the spirits as to the whereabouts of Laraedina." She looked about curiously. "Where is Vergil? He should be here for this."

Dante shrugged. "He impaled me, and went out back. He'll be back eventually; just let him work off his anger first."

Natasha's eyebrows shot up, nearly into her hairline. "He _impaled_ you? Where's the wound? Why aren't you dead?"

"Demon blood, babe. It has its uses."

She held up her hands, upon which there were a total of four rings, on the index and ring fingers. "So do magical items."

He grinned. "Point taken. So how are you planning on going about this?"

"This spell is a Divination, my own personal, modified version. Put simply, I will ask the spirits of the netherworlds where Laraedina is, and how to get there. But rather than merely whisper the answer into my mind, the spirits will show, as well as tell, me and any observers whatever they have to say. So don't get nervous when voices come out of thin air, okay?"

"'Kay." Dante finished cleaning his sword and laid it back against the wall, kicking his chair back so he could cross his legs atop the desk, his usual position when sitting there. Crossing his arms behind his head, he looked at the elf-woman standing beside his desk. "So…You mentioned before that you had kids? How many?"

Natasha blew some hair out of her eyes and sat on the edge of the desk, beside his booted feet. "Let's see…With Anomen, I had Moira, Gorion, the twins Sean and Shania, and Jaraenis. Then with Solaufein, there were Vorion and Vashti… I had Atalanta, Ajantaris, and Aloria after that Midsummer Rite with that half-dragon druid… And I had Darthoridan and Ralanthis after that one-night stand in Suldanessellar," she listed, ticking off the names on her fingers. "So that's twelve children over 403 years. Not bad for an elf."

Dante only stared. _12 children? Sweet Jesus, this woman's a baby breeding machine!_

"I take it that you haven't had any children of your own?"

"Nope. I like screwing as much as you apparently do, but I take precautions. Someone's gonna have to continue the bloodline, but not just yet. Gotta find me a willing woman first. Most girls like the idea of sleeping with me, but not gettin' knocked up."

Natasha laughed at that. "You, having women problems? With a face that gorgeous, how could any woman resist you?"

He sniffed aristocratically. "Girls just have no appreciation for my special 'talents.' Vergil might have better luck, if he would just stop being so damned anti-social." He stopped, and gave Natasha a long look.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Exactly what were you two doing up there, anyway?"

"Oh! Ummm…" Natasha fought hard to keep from blushing. "Nothing! We were…just talking!"

"Oh, really?" Dante grabbed her hand, suddenly very serious. "I wouldn't say this to a lesser woman, Natasha, so listen close. My brother is capable of some pretty bad things, but he's taken a liking to you. The fact that he impaled me when I hadn't done anything says it all. Make him happy. He deserves some light in his life."

Natasha looked at him, and he saw that there was a conflict in her beautiful eyes, a struggle between the heart and the head. But before he could say anything, she had taken her hand away and turned her gaze to the back door.

Vergil came in a minute later. His glacial-blue eyes immediately went to the elf-woman sitting on his brother's desk, and Dante saw his hand tighten ever so slightly on Yamato's sheath, hanging at his side. Emotion raged within him, but he allowed none of it to show on his face; only the edge of the storm was visible within the depths of his eyes.

"Are you ready to cast the spell?" he asked, his voice carefully measured.

"Allow me to set up the components, and I will be." Natasha rose smoothly, and cleared a space on the floor before the desk. She laid out a rectangle with four long strips of bone, and set up an incense burner, placing a long stick of incense within to burn. The scent of the curling smoke made Dante sneeze, and Vergil sent him a Look.

The twins watched as the elf-woman sat on the floor, her feet folded upon her knees, and held up her hands at her sides in the same finger-curling position as a yogi transfixed in meditation. She shook her glossy blue/black mane behind her shoulders, and closed her eyes, chanting rhythmically in the same manner she had earlier that morning.

Vergil listened carefully, and soon realized something amazing: she was vocally ox-carting, turning the phrase backwards as soon as she finished it before twisting it yet again, a continuous tape-loop with no end in sight. Furthermore, she got it perfect every single time, reciting syllables and words that would have tied his capable tongue in knots many times over.

That she was capable of such a thing completely astounded him. His respect for her rose even further than her fighting abilities had taken it earlier that morning.

As did his desire.

At long last, after even the more patient of the twins had begun fidgeting, and the sun was beginning to kiss the western horizon, Natasha spoke a language they could understand. "Reveal to me the location of Laraedina Delryn, she who would release the seals upon the essences of Bhaal, the dead Lord of Murder, and take it unto herself with the aid of demonic forces."

Immediately, the space within the bone-square blurred, swirling and changing into something other than the floor. Natasha opened her eyes just before the voices spoke, echoing throughout the room like a peal of rolling thunder.

But there was nobody else in the room, save her and the twins.

"_Laraedina Delryn stands in the second circle of Hell today. Tomorrow she will stand on the slopes of Mount Celestial, where she and They will be vulnerable to attack."_

The bones showed another elf-woman, this one pale of hair, and garbed in red-lined black robes, standing before a pillar glowing with an unholy, sickly green light, her arms spread wide. Two demons stood with her, their arms likewise held high.

"_New life will come out of death. Death comes on black wings."_

The floor was suddenly back, and Natasha slumped against the desk, breathing heavily. She reached a trembling hand up to wipe the sweat from her brow. "Water, please…"

Vergil appeared at her side with a glass. She took a grateful drink. "Thank you…"

Dante looked upon them with unreadable eyes (although he could only see the top of Natasha's head). It had long been his opinion that Vergil needed to find a woman, someone to spend his life with and devote his time to, but Natasha was not the solution. She was a temporary fix, someone to whet his appetite for female companionship, but she could never be the woman he needed. Falling for her would be an extremely bad idea, since she was leaving as soon as her descendent was dead. If Vergil's heart was involved, what damage could this cause?

He quickly shoved that thought out of his head. His brother needed to lighten up and have some fun. Even if she was leaving, she could offer him that. Besides, Vergil didn't have a heart as vulnerable as most peoples'. He wouldn't fall for her.

Would he?

"She's in Hell right now," his brother was saying. Stating, actually.

"Aye, and tomorrow she will return to Toril, to the continent of Faerun, to make the jump to Olympus, and to Mount Celestial from there. While she stands upon the mountain's soil, or the grass of Faerun, Laraedina is vulnerable."

"But since she is in Hell, we cannot go after her now," Vergil finished.

"That is correct." She finished the water, and leaned her head back against the cool wood of the desk, exhausted by the amount of energy required to power the spell on this world. "We will have to prepare today and tonight, and then go to my world tomorrow. The spell, the portal, is still active, and will remain so as long as I exist. We will go through tomorrow morning."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dante held up his hands, an alarmed look on his expressive features. "You didn't say anything about world-hopping!"

"I didn't know that we would be force to go to my world, either." Natasha stood shakily. "I thought that perhaps we could catch Laraedina before things got too far, but that no longer seems to be an option. I have little idea how she managed to get into the Demonic World directly from Toril. Normally, one has to touch the connecting world in the Prime Material Plane before slipping onto another plane that has no ties to ones own homeworld." She looked at them, suddenly terrified. "You will come, won't you?"

Vergil nodded immediately. Leaving her to handle this alone, when he had already promised to aid her, had never crossed his mind.

Dante sighed and looked at his guns. "Lemme guess. Guns don't exist on Toril, right?"

Natasha shook her head.

"Well, someone's gotta put the inspiration in someone's head." He stood up and headed for the door. "I'm in for the ride, babe. Can't let my brother go it alone."

"Thank you, Dante." Natasha's legs trembled, and she fell, catching herself on the edge of the desk. Dante pretended not to notice, to force his brother to react. He shut the door behind him, and strolled down the street. Love Planet held no real interest for him this night, but he suddenly felt like a drink at the Bull's Eye. Who knew what passed for booze on Natasha's world?

And besides, making himself scarce for a few hours might be a very good thing, if he had guessed things right between his brother and the elf-woman.

Whistling innocently, he strolled away from Devil May Cry in search of a drink.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Vergil cussed his twin profoundly as he caught Natasha and lifted her in his arms. She looped an arm about his neck, the other folded across her slim belly, relaxing against the warm fires of his body-heat. She was so tired…

But not too tired, if he wanted to…

She was so light in his arms. So frail, for such a strong, powerful woman. The half-demon held her lightly, as if afraid that she would break if he squeezed her too tight. "Do you want me to put you to bed?" he asked softly.

"Aye. I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this…"

"It's all right, Natasha. I've seen your strength."

"So hard…to use magic without the Weave… So draining…" She closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. _So warm…_

Vergil took her upstairs and lay her in Dante's bed, drawing the covers up over her and closing the blinds so the room was comfortingly dark.

He started to leave, but a voice stopped him.

"Don't go…"

Vergil turned to look at her, his cerulean eyes shining in the dark. "I do not believe that I could behave myself if I were to stay with you, Natasha." The voice was low, stroking across her senses as she wished his fingers would.

She raised her head, locked gazes with him. "Who said I wanted you to behave?"

Her eyes were emeralds gleaming in the light from the hallway, golden sparkles flashing in their depths. Promising so much, despite her weakened state.

Vergil pushed the door shut, enveloping the room in mysterious shades of darkness. Small lines of illumination, the last gasp of bloody light from the setting sun, painted their skin with stripes, light striving in a losing battle against the darkness of night. The perfect setting for the beloved daughter of a damned god and the dark son of a good-aligned demon.

So wrong, but so right…

Just as everything else in their lives.

"I did say that I finish that which I start, did I not?" he mused, untying Yamato from his belt.

Natasha reached up to grab him by his arms as soon as Yamato was laid aside, pulling him down beside her. "You talk too much."

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Vergil: _Vergil here. Queen is unable to come to the computer at the moment, so this day's update was posted by Yours Truly. All bow to the typing mastery of Vergil, Firstborn of Sparda!_

(loud thumping echoes from next room)

Dante:_ Let us out, you fucking prick!_

Queen:_ C'mon, Vergil! Enough is enough! Get us out of here!_

Vergil: _I don't think so. You gorged yourselves on enough candy to kill a fully grown pachyderm last night. I'm merely awaiting the moment when your overstretched stomachs will decide to surrender and disgorge their contents into the toilet. Locking you both in the bathroom was a necessary precaution if the carpets and my sanity are to be saved. _

Queen: _No, it wasn't! This is because you had to clean up the plaster_ you_ cut down from the ceiling last night, isn't it?_

Vergil: _Perhaps that was a tiny factor in my motivations…_

Dante: _You asshole! Just wait until I get out of here! Queen's gonna have rump roast tomorrow!_

Queen: _Err… I think I prefer him the way he is, Dante. But regardless…_

Together: _LET US OUT!!!!!_

Vergil: _Pay them no mind. I would request that you please leave a review in the appropriate place once you have finished reading this chapter. Perhaps then I shall allow my lobotomized younger sibling and the true author of this insufferable mockery of novellic artistry to exit the lavatory. Until then, I believe I shall partake of some refreshing nighttime repose…_

Queen: _Don't you dare go to sleep! Vergil! _(pounds on the door)_ Vergil! Let us out right now, or so help me…_

Dante: _Vergil, if you don't let us out right now, Queen and I are going to have extremely noisy, all-night sex in the bathtub! And then cover the bottom of the tub with your hair-gel! You won't be able to sleep or take a shower for weeks!_

(Symphony of crickets)

Queen: _I don't think he's listening, Dante._

Dante: _Shall we make good on my threat?_

Queen: _Well… You are pretty cute when you make the Bambi eyes… And Bambi eyes turn me on…_

Dante: _Like this?_

Queen: _Ooohhh, baby! C'mere, you red-hot hunk of masculine goodness! Jump my bones from here to the moon and make me scream so loud the aliens on Pluto will hear it!_

Dante: _Of course, my smoking-hot bay-beh! I'm gonna let the whole neighborhood know how good I am to you!_

Vergil: _You two can have wild and crazy sex if you like, but keep it QUIET!!!!!!!_

Dante: _Did I hear him say that he wanted us to scream louder?_

Queen: _I think you did, my rockin', ass-kicking, leather-clad bad boy!_

Dante: _Then let's up the volume! The house is gonna be rockin', the neighbors are gonna be knockin', and my red-hot mama's gonna be howlin' ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!!_

Queen: _Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Give it to me, baby! Make me come! _(loud, piercing scream) _YES!!!_

Vergil (sighing): _This is gonna be a long night…Just leave a review, okay? Tell me my misery is worth something to you…_


	6. Within Her Mind

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: M. There's some explicit stuff in this one.

Within Her Mind

Laraedina crawled away from Tlane and Ssaliira shakily, her limbs as weak and trembling as a newborn fawn's. Every inch she took, dragging herself away from them, was sheer agony, but she had to get away. She felt the need to put some distance between her and them, to recover from their rather…thorough attentions.

And she had thought coupling with the demons of _her _world was painful…

At last, she tumbled off the massive slab of stone they called a bed and curled up on the warm ground, her knees pressed tightly against her chest. Her body was marred by numerous tiny cuts and bite-marks, the marks of the demons siblings' passion; curling up like this aggravated some of the wounds, spilling fresh blood down her back and sides, making her suck in her breath to avoid screaming.

Laraedina didn't care that some of her wounds had reopened. She reached a trembling hand out for her backpack, pulling out a bottle filled with blue liquid. It seemed an eternity until she dragged it back to her, but at last she pried the cork off with her teeth and downed the sweet liquid, sighing softly in relief as her wounds tingled, healing as if they had never been there.

It had been worth it, to couple with them. Worth the pain, worth the humiliation. Worth the blood she had spilt. The power she had gained made it all worth it.

She'd done worse things to increase her magic. Things that would have made a lesser mortal lose their sanity long before now.

Things that would have her soul burning in the fires of the Abyss, choking on the swirling miasma of that damned place, totally at the mercy of whatever demons discovered her if she somehow failed to accomplish her goals.

_Stop it!_ she commanded her errant mind. _You WILL release the essence of Bhaal, and you WILL become the goddess of murder! Failure is NOT an option, so don't even think that it is!_

She turned her eyes to the demonic siblings sleeping on the obsidian stone. Ssaliira was enfolded in her brother's velvet-soft wings, curled close to his body like a sleeping cat. Tlane, for his part, was entwined in his sister's clinging limbs. His chin was tucked against his neck, so the demoness couldn't get at his throat if she suddenly turned on him.

Suspicion and mistrust ruled them, even as they lay together.

Laraedina hadn't been surprised to find that her 'partners' were lovers as well as siblings. She had almost expected it, when she had seen how they interacted with each other before the blood-pact.

Sex and pain. Love-making and betrayal. She was very, very familiar with that combination.

Her mother had introduced her to it by example.

Tilephina had only agreed to marry Alaenasor so she could bear his child. For years, she had pretended to be his loving, innocent wife, even throughout her long-awaited pregnancy. But once Laraedina was born, she had dropped the façade in the most violent manner possible. Her mother had never explained what had caused her to act as such, or exactly what she had done, but Laraedina truly didn't give a damn. All that she knew was that Tilephina had seduced her husband out in the forest somewhere, and then killed him, leaving him for the rangers of Suldanessellar to find.

She had taken her daughter to the Forest of Mir, the dark, dangerous woodland where she herself had been raised. There she had settled, and Laraedina had grown up with only her mother and two drow elves, Lastu'or and Oliara, for company. Mir had turned her into a powerful warrior and spellcaster with few equals. A dangerous world that had taught her so much, she remembered Mir with some fondness. Most people who ventured there had died.

But she had survived.

Laraedina had killed for the first time when she was four. Her victim had been an infant rabbit that had somehow gotten out if its burrow; she had smashed its skull in with a handy rock before presenting it to her mother for approval.

_Only the strong survived_.

As she had grown, her three teachers and companions had fallen to her blades. She would learn all she could from them, and then kill them when they could teach her nothing more, as a way of proving her strength to herself. Lastu'or, the dark elf who had taught her survival skills, the male who had been her first lover, had been the first to die. He had let his guard down while coupling with her, and she had slain him. Oliara, her tutor in the arcane arts and the one who had told her about Bhaal and Natasha's exploits as a Bhaalspawn, had died screaming in the fires conjured by her magic.

Tilephina, her own mother, had been slain by her daughter's hand.

Laraedina had learned to use a blade at her mother's side, and she had carefully studied her mother's techniques, learning her strengths and her weaknesses most carefully. When she believed herself ready, she had challenged her mother to a duel.

And by sunset, she had been watching her mother's blood drain into the grass.

Laraedina reached out to touch the black hilt of Night's Kiss, her mother's vampiric sword. She had claimed the blade after cleaving her mother's skull in two; it was _her _blade now.

Her mother had been too weak, and weakness was unforgivable. By the laws she had grown up to know intimately, it was punishable by death. Tilephina had been weak.

As Natasha was now.

Laraedina's lip curled as her thoughts drifted to her great-grandmother. She had been a fool, as far as Laraedina was concerned. A weak-minded fool. She had given up the ultimate power to live the life of a mortal, and in her great-granddaughter's mind that meant she had to be punished.

By death.

That power, the power Natasha had thrown away, belonged to her. She was strong. She had killed everything weaker than her, overcome every obstacle thrown against her. She had no heart to be influenced, no possible weakness that an enemy could exploit. She had failed to kill Natasha before, on Faerun's soil, but she would remedy that mistake soon enough. By rights, Bhaal's power belonged to her. _Her, and_ _no one else!_

The seals would fall, and she would absorb Bhaal's essence, shedding her mortal weaknesses and attaining godhood, becoming the ultimate judge of weakness and strength, the one being with the power to decide who lived and who died in moments of bloodiest violence…

_Laraedina, Lady of Murder…_

The thought brought a cruel smile to her lips, and she turned her gaze back to the demons sleeping on the stone.

It was only a matter of time.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Dante stumbled into Devil May Cry shortly after 3 am, a monster hangover already dancing at the edge of his consciousness.

_I'm never getting into a drinking contest with that dude ever again, _he thought, dragging his feet up the stairs and into the bathroom, searching for the Tylenol without turning on the light. A wry smirk twisted his features, however, when he remembered the three hundred dollar bills in his pocket. _At least I won…_

_There_ was the Tylenol! Dante gratefully swallowed two doses and went back into the hall, taking the bottle with him. He was going to need it when he finally woke up.

He started to go into his room, but a noise stopped him. He tried to place it, and then finally leaned down to put his ear against the keyhole.

Squeaking bedsprings.

_Way to go, bro_. He decided he didn't want to know how long this had been going on, and went back downstairs. The couch was a far better option than his room at the moment, and he knew Vergil would kill him if he crashed on his twin's bed.

Kicking off his boots and throwing his coat across the back of the couch, he gingerly got down on the sofa with less exposed springs. When nothing jabbed into his lower back, he relaxed and cast the ceiling an amused glance.

_Don't stay up too late, kids_, he thought. _We've got a portal to catch in the morning. _Then he rolled over to get some much-needed sleep, hoping to head off his approaching hangover at the pass.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _This is what happens when I let Dante write a chapter…_

Dante: _Hey, you said you wanted some romance in here! _

Queen: _I said 'romance,' you dummy. Not 'sex!'_

Dante: _I was inspired, babe. That's all._

Vergil: _If he's going to go on about last night again, I swear I'm going to stop that nonsense and cut off his balls when next he sleeps. _

Dante: _No way, bro. My balls are insured. _

Queen: _You're kidding. You've got to be kidding._

Dante: _Insured for $10, 000 in case of premature removal due to violent activity by Mutual of Omaha. _

Vergil: _Brother, do you know how sick and twisted and wrong that is?_

Dante: _Yeah. If I have to cash in on the policy, you'll have to continue the family line. If that ain't sick and twisted and wrong, then I don't know what is._

Vergil: _Hmmm… You mean, if I help you cash in on your policy, I get Queen? Very well, brother…_ (Yamato leaves sheath once more)

Dante (very nervously):_ Heh, c'mon now, Vergil. Don't be like that…_

Vergil: _You're about to be ten thousand dollars richer, Dante. Hold still!_

(door bangs open, Dante runs screaming out into the night, pursued by Vergil)

Queen: _Welcome to life with Dante and Vergil… If you would, please leave a review while I go try to separate them. And protect Dante's balls once more from Vergil's wrath. This happens a lot more often than one might think…_

(chair scoots back)

Queen: _Oh, and flamers are also appreciated, if you are so inspired by Dante's dirty mind to leave them. We shall use them to roast weenies. Now, wish me luck while I go try to keep Dante from turning permanently soprano!_

(Door bangs against door, loud cussing is heard leaving the house)


	7. She Can Take Em All

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: Borderline M

"She Can Hold Them All"

Vergil stood in the warmth of the shower, letting the hot water trail down his body in steaming rivulets. His mind wandered over the events of the previous night, and he felt, for the first time in years, true peace.

It had only been his second time. The first had been unintentional, and ultimately painful. One of Dante's girlfriends had gotten angry with him over some trivial matter, and had decided to get back at him by seducing him older, more solitary twin. But she had decided that he was nothing compared to Dante, and had gone back to him almost the instant she left the bed. When he'd found out about it, Dante had hit the roof. But strangely, it hadn't been Vergil he was furious with. The woman in question had been lucky to escape Devil May Cry with her body and life intact. If she hadn't gotten away from him so fast, Dante would have torn her to shreds for betraying him with his brother, and then pulling such a dirty trick on that same brother.

That had been the moment when Vergil had decided to spend his life female-less, when she had turned to him with the sheets wrapped around her naked body and told him that he wasn't good enough for her, that she had only slept with him to get back at his twin. If women were all so petty as her, so uncaring of a man's feelings, then he wouldn't have any feelings to offer them.

Natasha was different.

She actually cared. He had seen no hint of dishonesty in her green-and-gold eyes. She was open and understanding, helping him learn how to better please a woman. She had put him through a storm of sensations last night, a combination of pain and pleasure that had him in total ecstasy.

And he had learned his lessons well, reciprocating in kind to his teacher.

Why were things so different with her? Why did she accept him like this, rather than turning away in disgust and fear when she knew what he truly was?

Why did she make him feel as if he had a heart?

_Such thoughts are unbecoming of a true warrior, _his mind told him. _She will only weaken you._

Something inside him told his logical, practical mind to _shut the fuck up_.

He would take as much of her as he could before she walked out of his life forever.

Vergil turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, rubbing himself free of water and shaking out his hair. Once his mop of silvery locks was dry, he gelled it into its usual spiky style, tightened the towel around his middle, and went to his room to dress.

Dante sneaked into the bathroom behind him, clutching his head to keep him brain from exploding out of his skull. Vergil noticed him, however, and slammed a fist against the wall, making sure to hit the gong he had hung there as a trophy from one of their hunts.

Dante groaned as the noise pierced into his aching brain with all the accuracy of a guided missile. He flipped his brother the finger before shutting the bathroom door (very quietly) behind him. Moments later, Vergil heard the shower turn on full blast.

It was hard for the elder twin not to laugh. Dante should have known better than to get drunk last night.

Clothing was not an issue. He chose to wear, for sentimental reasons, the exact same clothing he had worn to confront Dante at the tower: the same leather vest, the same shirt of softest black silk, the same boots and pants, even the same cravat. His favorite log coat of azure silk fell across his shoulders as always (thank God or whoever that he had managed to get it repaired to its former glory!) and after smoothing it in place, he went to look in the mirror he had shoved up against the wall opposite the bed. Yes, he looked exactly as he had two years ago, when Dante had dragged him back from the precipice of Hell on his shoulder like a sack of wet laundry.

But he wasn't the same man he had been on that day. First Dante, and now Natasha, had changed him into someone else, someone more.

He didn't want Sparda's power anymore. If he was to avenge his mother, the boys he and Dante had once been, he would do it with his own powers and abilities. If he couldn't do it under his own power, then he didn't, as far as he was concerned, deserve to be called a son of Sparda.

That was why he practiced so diligently with Yamato and the other weapons now, why he went with Dante on every single mission Devil May Cry was contacted about. To increase his strength to the point that he didn't need Sparda's power to defeat Mundus.

And he would succeed. He _had_ to succeed.

He couldn't lose Dante, his twin brother and only remaining family, a second time.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha was waiting downstairs for the twins to finish whatever they were wont to do in the mornings. She had discovered one of their boxes of donuts, and was curiously sampling one when Vergil came down the stairs. Dressed in the same manner she had been when first he laid eyes on her, he had a sudden vision of her as a warrior-goddess of yesteryear, leading her army into battle and glory.

She had her back to him, and he saw that she wore a sheath strapped to a leather strap across the back of her silvery cloak. A sword was secured in that sheath, a sword that was little longer than a long hunting knife. Definitely smaller than the blades that rode on her hips, but Vergil could sense a powerful enchantment imbued within the metal.

"What's that sword?" he asked, grabbing a donut and leaning against one of the posts supporting the stairs.

"It's name is 'Cutthroat,' a little souviener I found in the lair of Bodhi, a vampire I slew while still a Bhaalspawn." She sipped at a glass of water, washing the donut down her throat. "Believe me, I have far more weapons on my person than these three blades. I have them all in here." She patted the blue bag with the crimson cord on her belt.

Vergil snorted. "I find that a little hard to believe."

Natasha smirked and stood up, untying the cord and reaching into the bag. "Pixie Prick." A tiny, three-bladed dagger was taken out of the bag and placed on the coffee table. "Chaos and Entropy." Two short swords, one red and the other blue, joined the dagger. "Equalizer." A long sword with a hilt of blue steel and an enormous aquamarine in the pommel now lay on the table. "Gensen Bow." She pulled out a bow made of silvery wood, the bowstring shimmering as if made of lightning. "Ravager." Now she held a long, heavy halberd with a vicious-looking crescent blade, half a foot taller than she was.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Believe me now?"

Vergil had been gaping when she'd pulled out the Ravager. "Yes…Yes, I do." He held out a hand. "Let me see that bag."

She passed it to him. He opened the bag wide and looked inside, tilting it so one of the overhead lights hit the open maw.

Nothing.

"Say 'Flail of Ages.' Then reach inside," she instructed. "The weapon will come to your hand."

"Flail of Ages." Vergil put his hand in the bag, expecting to feel the soft, inner bottom, but his questing fingers met instead with something cool and metallic.

He withdrew his hand and found himself holding a flail with five heads, each one containing a different elemental property. One burned like fire when he touched it, glowing like newly-forged metal. Another crackled with lightening and the third oozed acid out of its nasty spikes. Still another was coated with ice, and the last dripped poison on the floor at slow, irregular intervals.

"That was my husband's favored weapon. Chaos and Entropy were crafted for the hands of Haer'Dalis, a tiefling whom I knew as a dear friend. The bow belonged to my sister, Imoen. The Ravager was used by Sarevok as a secondary weapon out of preference to his sword, after he swore himself into my services and I brought him back to life." She began gathering up the weapons, took the bag and the flail back from Vergil. "A small custom my companions and I developed, for what reason I do not know. Whenever one of us left the group, we swapped weapons or items. When they died, I took their weapons in memorium of them, so their favored weapons could continue the work they had in life. In fact, I took all of their weapons, not just the ones they favored. They would have wanted it that way."

"And so your arsenal has grown through the deaths of those you held dear."

"Yes." She looked down at the floor, where the poison was starting to eat holes in the wooden planks. "One of the prices I pay for being born an elf. I will outlive all of my non-elven companions. I have watched first my husband, then our children and my friends, age and die. It is my curse to bear, along with the repercussions of being born a Bhaalspawn."

Vergil understood. He and Dante would probably live far longer than any human ever would, but not as long as their father had. Extreme longevity was as much a curse as it was a blessing.

Dante wandered down the stairs a short while later. He carried a large black backpack, and wore his favorite bare-chested red leather coat. Like Vergil, he had managed to get it patched up (although for what it had cost he could have bought two entirely new outfits). In fact, aside from a new pair of black fingerless gloves and tighter leather pants, he resembled the Dante of two years ago to a tee.

"Getting more weapons, brother?" Vergil casually asked.

"Yeah." Dante unlocked the weapon case, dropped the nylon bag at his feet. "I have a feeling we're gonna need 'em."

"There's no need for the bag. Natasha can carry them."

Dante gave his brother a withering look.

"Give me the weapons." Natasha held out a hand, opened the bag with the other.

"Sure, babe. Whatever." Dante grabbed Cerberus out of the case and threw it at her. She caught it and put it in the bag, hiding the big weapon from sight.

"What the hell?" The younger twin stared, then handed Nevan to her. The guitar-scythe disappeared into the small bag as well. "How did you do that?"

"There's an extra-dimensional space contained within this bag. It can hold pretty much anything, and give it back when the specific item is called for by name."

"Heh. That's pretty handy. I could use one of those." Dante took the bag from her and put Agni and Rudra, Beowulf, Force Edge, a rocket launcher similar to the Kalina Ann that Lady had helped him scrap together, and his sawed-off shotgun inside the bag. No spare ammunition required since he made his own modifications to the guns in the time since he'd acquired them. That done, he slung Rebellion onto his back and holstered Ebony and Ivory, handing the bag back to its rightful owner. "I'll be wanting those back."

"I'll make sure you get them back." She tied the bag back on her belt. "Ready to go?"

Dante finished stuffing his pockets full of blue orbs, gold orbs, and green stars, throwing some to Vergil occasionally. "Now I'm ready. You ready, bro?"

"Always, Dante. Always."

"Good. Where's the portal at?"

"Close to where you met me. Just follow me." She and Vergil waited patiently while Dante locked the doors of Devil May Cry and activated the various wards he'd put up around the place to keep it safe from unwanted intruders and visitors while he was away, and then the elf-woman took them to the street where she'd met Dante two nights ago. They followed her into an alley, and then she stopped.

"It's here. Be silent while I activate it." Natasha stood with her legs together, and spread her arms wide so that she resembled a giant 'Y'. A string of words spilled from her lips like water, and a sudden wind hit them, blowing hair, coats, and cape back from their owners as the back of the alley flashed to life in a small explosion of red light.

"It's open. W can go through now," Natasha said, lowering her hands. "But I must warn you: Toril is very much unlike this world. It you can help it, do not show surprise or disgust when you meet certain races or see strange things. Humans and elves are not the only people which call my world home, and we are not quite as…advanced as you appear to be." She looked the half-demons over with a critical eye. "Actually, as long as you don't act too out of place, you'd probably fit in a lot better on my world than you do on this one."

"I can control myself, and Dante as well," Vergil reassured her, giving Dante a warning glare.

Dante sulked briefly, then walked towards the portal. He looked at the elf-woman curiously as she took a step back from the light.

"I have to go through last. It will close when I enter the portal," she explained apologetically.

The twins entered the portal.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Tlane took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of mortal souls. Beside him, Ssaliira was likewise sampling the air, tasting the mortals upon the wind blowing towards them from a village not far below.

Laraedina grinned coldly as the demons' strong fingers flexed with the desire to rend and kill, to tear bodies apart and feast upon the bloody flesh, the screaming innards, of their helpless victims. "Hungry?" she asked.

"Their fear will be sweet indeed," Ssaliira replied, her voice low with need.

"There is time to whet your appetites for blood, flesh, and souls if you wish," Laraedina offered. "That village down there is nearly helpless. All you need do is chase the people down like cattle."

Tlane glared at her, his bloody eyes narrowing dangerously. "We need ask no permission from _nobody_, mortal. Especially not you."

"I never said you did." He was extremely intimidating, but the elf-maiden held her ground. She couldn't afford to appear weak in front of these two.

"Come, brother." Ssaliira tugged at her brother's arm, taking his attention away from the golden-haired elf-maiden. "Let us take our fill of fear and pain, as we have wanted to for two thousand long years…"

Tlane gave Laraedina one more menacing glare, and then spread his wings wide. "Race you, sister."

"Of course, brother dear," she purred. Then they were off, he a black blur flying two feet off the ground, she a pale streak with blue hair trailing behind her, matching him with sheer foot-speed.

Then they were gone from her immediate sight, and as the terrified shrieks of the doomed villagers filled the air, Laraedina closed her eyes, leaned back her head back so the cool wind rising up to her position on the hilltop above the little hamlet stirred her hair around her.

And smiled.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Well, there's another chapter up. Sorry it took so long; I was busy typing up and posting "My Angel" under the M-rated stories and trying to fix some errors in "Innocence Lamented, Innocence Lost." I think I'm going to have to take that story down and repost it in order to fix the errors. _

Dante:_ This is her roundabout way of begging for reviews on her other fics._

Vergil: _All she's doing is stating facts, brother. An explanation of why she took so long in posting this chapter, no more than that._

Dante: _You're just defending her._

Queen: _And you're just sore because I didn't sleep with you last night._

Vergil: _Ooo! A sting! A sting on you, Dante!_

Dante: _Don't tempt me, Queen…_

Queen: _To do what?_

Dante (growls): _This._

(Female squeal, transmission shows Dante bending Queen back over his arm, kissing her passionately)

Vergil: _Wow._

Queen: _Wow._

Dante: _Hot?_

Queen: _Hot._

Dante: _Bedroom? _

Queen: _Bedroom_ (boots tramp away). _Vergil, will you finish posting that?_

Vergil: _Sure, Queen _(door slams shut)_ While they are busy in there, allow me to implore you to leave a review in the appropriate placement. Review shall keep me from slicing off a certain vital part of Dante's anatomy which is insured for $10, 000 by Mutual of Omaha and taking Queen for my own._

Dante: _I heard that!_

(door slams open, a boot comes hurling for Vergil's head. He ducks it)

Queen: _Not the computer agai…!_

(Transmission cut off)


	8. Welcome to the Forgotten Realms

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: Borderline T/M

Welcome to Toril

Natasha came though the portal to find Dante and Vergil standing in the middle of a circle of dead bodies, blood spattered throughout the clearing. They both glared at her as she appeared.

"Hey, don't look at me that way," she protested. "How was I supposed to know that there would be orcs here when we came through?"

"Orcs, huh?" Dante sheathed Rebellion, sneered at the dismembered corpses. "Ugly things. Look like pigs."

"Most people think so. They live like animals, and are regarded as little more than such by the civilized races." She looked around the clearing, hands clenching the hilts of her swords, and relaxed when she finished her scan. There were no more orcs in their immediate vicinity.

Vergil wiped Yamato free of blood and returned it to its sheath. "So how are we to find your great-granddaughter on this world? And what is this energy I sense? I feel almost…"

"Supercharged," Dante finished, seeing that his brother was hard-pressed to explain the feelings of immense power their demonic sides were reacting to, almost sniffing eagerly at something in the air. He was having a slightly more difficult time keeping it reigned in than he normally did.

"It's probably the Weave, the tapestry of magical power that enfolds Toril in its grasp, especially around this continent, Faerun. The Weave is what mages, spellcasters like myself, draw upon to empower our spells. That is why I became so drained back in your world; I had no Weave to draw upon, so I had to use my own energy to strengthen my spells." Natasha stretched her back out, a slight smile on her face, pleased at the familiar rejuvenation of the Weave. "As for finding Laraedina, I suspect that we will not get anything more out of the nether spirits than what we did last night. The best we can do is look for rumors, to pick up on their trail and follow them to the nearest Celestial Stairway. There is a village, a town, actually, a few miles from here. If I know Laraedina, we will hear rumors of senseless destruction and bloody murder at the tavern or one of the inns." She looked at the sun, shading her eyes with one hand. "Inns, probably. It will be too dark to travel by the time we reach Beregost."

"We can travel at night. We aren't afraid of the bogeyman," Dante snorted.

"There's a very good reason this region is called 'the Sword Coast.' Worse things than orcs roam this place by night and day. For men like yourselves, for example, sirens will be a big problem if we must go near the coastline."

"Sirens?" Vergil asked, envisioning the half-bird, half-woman monstrosities of Greek mythology.

"Nerieds. Beautiful women who sing lovely songs to charm men to their deaths beneath the unforgiving waves of their home." Natasha tossed her hair back and pushed her headband up a little more. "Unless things have changed, there are a few good sirens who raise their voices in praise of Lathander at the Song of the Morning temple. We will have to stop there in order to get into Beregost, but you must control yourselves around them," she warned, giving Dante a stern look.

She turned away, ignoring his innocent look, and began walking, the twins following. "How far away is this town?" Vergil inquired.

"Ten miles, give or take a few. Fifteen, at the most."

"Can't we hail a taxi?" Dante asked, frowning down at his well-worn leather boots.

Natasha glanced at him over her shoulder. "What's a taxi?"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Laraedina walked through the remains of the small town, savoring the grisly sights that greeted her. Homes burning with sickly yellow flames, victims of the fires hanging out the doors and windows, their charred bodies reaching for freedom that came too late. A woman slumped against a horse-trough, her intestines trailing across her skirts and feet. A man, his skull partially devoured, crushing his tiny son beneath his body. Innumerable corpses lined the streets, each of them brutally dismembered. Violated.

The elf-maiden walked across the body of a fallen girl-child, her heart ripped out of her chest by a ravenous claw, her pale blue eyes staring sightlessly at the bloody sky.

She loved scenes like this.

Tlane and Ssaliira had utterly destroyed the meager resistance the hamlet had offered. Then they had run rampant through the streets, killing as they would, spreading terror in their wake. Nobody had escaped their killing frenzy that day. Not even a single child.

It was truly an inspiration to the elf-maiden. She had destroyed towns and villages before, all as sacrifices to the dark powers of the Abyss, but never had they been as glorious as this.

She took note of the demons' methods, and continued on her way.

She found the demons at the edge of the village, on a cliff that overlooked the sea. Ssaliira was on her knees, tearing into the corpse of a young man like some kind of animal. Something deep in the body broke with a sickening _crackle_, and she pulled her head out of the torso, chewing on something red and slimy with obvious pleasure. Tlane was seated on a stone wall, gnawing on an arm from a female's corpse at his side, draped across the stone like a puppet with its strings cut. He glared at the elf-maiden as she approached.

"Good hunting, I take it?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

"Very." He swallowed a mouthful of flesh, licking his lips to capture each tiny droplet of blood. "I had nearly forgotten how sweet human cattle could taste."

"Their souls are even better." Ssaliira was eating something she held between her fingers, something Laraedina could not see. The demoness threw a wicked smile at her brother. "Can't you hear him, brother? He's screaming."

Tlane reached into the carcass he feasted upon, pulled something invisible free of the bloody shell. "Of course, sister. She is begging for mercy, for release, as well."

"Shall we put them out of their misery?" Ssaliira purred.

"Don't we always?"

The demons opened their maws wide, forced the invisible souls between their teeth. Laraedina watched, utterly fascinated, as they bit and tore at the helpless souls, swallowing them with true pleasure. The demons smiled, and Ssaliira placed one long-fingered hand upon her milky, crimson-stained abdomen, licking her lips like a satisfied feline.

"He yet screams, brother. So sweet, as always."

Tlane grinned and tore into the woman's body, biting into her heart as if it were a delicacy.

Laraedina cleared her throat, gaining their attention momentarily. "We should search for the Celestial Staircase tomorrow, and ascend to Olympus," she informed them. "We cannot spend too much time destroying and devouring helpless villages if we are to reach the peak of Mount Celestial." She grinned, a lazy show of teeth. "There will be plenty of time for blood and violence when I am the Lady of Murder, after all. That was our bargain, was it not?"

The demons didn't answer. They were too busy feasting upon their victims' flesh.

On her way back through the village, a child no older than five years of age, miraculously spared the claws and fangs that had killed his parents and older sister, reached a hand out to the passing elf-maiden, begging her to help him out from under his mother's body.

Laraedina smiled cruelly, and swung Night's Kiss…

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

"Here we are! The Song of the Morning temple!"

The twins looked upon the sprawling building, the golden dome and the courtyard open to the sky. They supposed that the sight must be awe-inspiring to people who worshipped Lathander (whoever the hell _that_ was), but they weren't inspired.

Not until they entered the main temple, anyway.

Vergil was entranced by the frescos and paintings that adorned the walls and ceiling, by the exquisitely-carved statues and wall panels. If he weren't so busy with Dante, he would have loved to examine the artwork in far-closer detail than he was currently able.

Dante was staring wide-eyed at the nereids singing in magically-created pools of light. Beautiful females with pale blue or pink skin and hair, garbed in skimpy robes of sea-silk, their voices raised in enchanting song…Vergil kept a _very_ firm grip on his brother's coat to make sure he didn't do anything…impolite.

"Welcome to the House of the Morninglord!" A handsome young man in pink robes, the priestly garb of a servant of Lathander, approached the trio. Natasha bowed her head respectfully. "Natasha Nightsinger. Bless you, child, never had I thought to see you with my own eyes once more!"

"Father Embaruus Simgarigan, High Priest of Lathander and Mayor of Beregost. It is good to see you all as well. Far too much time has passed since last we spoke. How have you been? How has Ari'allayla been?"

"Things have been quiet since you took care of that nest of ogres and ogrillions. Ari'allayla has been fine as well. She has recently given me a beautiful daughter, and returned to praising the Morninglord with her unmatchable voice. "He looked to one of the nereids, a female with pink flesh and pearls entwined in her pale hair. "She has missed you as well. You ought to speak with her."

"I am afraid I cannot just now, my friend. My companions and I have urgent business in town. Do I still have clearance through the gate?"

"Of course you do, and for one hundred gold pieces each, your friends will as well." He looked at the white-haired, oddly-dressed men behind her with curious eyes; where had Natasha found men like this? Their auras also confused him. He sensed some kind of demonic blood or abilities within them, but also human blood. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of them, but they had gotten in through the wards protecting the temple from those of evil demeanor, so that said something good about them. Besides, they traveled with Natasha. If she thought well enough of them to bring them with her on her travels, then he could trust them too. "Who are they, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I've forgotten my manners! Father Embaruus Simgarigan, this is Vergil and Dante. They are friends of mine, and fellow mercenaries. I will be paying their way into town; they do not have gold to spare." The elf-woman handed the priest the appropriate amount of coins, and then embraced him. "I will visit more when I have time, all right? Give Ari'allayla my regards and my deepest apologies."

"Of course I will, child." He took the opportunity to cop a feel, and when Vergil noticed he tightened his hold on Yamato slightly, entertaining violent thoughts concerning the priest and its razored edge.

"Father Embaruus!" Natasha laughed, pulling away. "Need I remind you that you are a married man?"

"And need I remind you that you were my woman once, several years ago? Before I even met Ari'allayla? Or has your memory gotten dull in your old age?"

"Father Embaruus!" Natasha was blushing now, shooting a glance at Vergil.

"Oh, I see. Well, good luck to you all on your travels." He handed Natasha two city tokens, flat discs with the crest of the city imprinted on the smooth metal, and gave Vergil a knowing smile as they passed him, headed towards the opposite door.

Vergil restrained the urge to gut the smiling priest.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

They got into the city with little trouble shortly after sunset. Natasha pointed out noteworthy structures as they passed deeper into the heart of the city, on their way to an inn called the Red Sheaf, which she had assured them would be full of gossip-mongers who could tell them where to find Laraedina and any companions she might have. Dante sneered at a sign that named the city fest-hall the Jovial Juggler (the clown painted on the signpost resembled that idiot Jester far too much for his liking), and Natasha had to stop him from shooting up the sign with Ebony, but other than that they were undisturbed.

"No pickpockets or thugs tonight," the female said cheerfully, as one might comment on the weather. "I suppose Embaruus finally hired someone other than the Flaming Fist to defend the town. They were always more concerned with guzzling copious amounts of ale than protecting the citizens from thieves."

"How do you know Embaruus, anyway?" Vergil asked, watching her reaction carefully.

"He was a friend of mine. If there was anything more than that between us, how is that your business?" she replied coolly. "It's over and done. I've moved on, and he's married with a daughter. We are friends now, nothing more."

Dante listened to this exchange with great interest. His brother had never been this interested in females before; why else would he have asked about Embaruus' connection to Natasha, a female whom he had shared a bed the previous night?

Vergil said nothing, and Natasha dropped the conversation. They continued on their way in silence.

The Red Sheaf was not a particularly outstanding building. A porch wrapped around it, shielding the entrances from rain and sun, but that and the signpost were all that said it was an inn.

"Doesn't look like much." Dante went up the stairs, reached for the door. Natasha stopped him.

"Don't judge it by appearances. This place can get a little rough. The inns of this town all have certain clientele they cater to; Feldepost's Inn is aimed for those travelers of some means of gold, better pay. Merchants and traveling nobles, mostly. The Jovial Juggler is the young people's fest-hall, and the Burning Wizard mostly gets exactly that: spellcasters. The Red Sheaf gets the rougher crowd. People come here for information and a place to hide, to blend in." She grabbed the door. "I know you can handle yourselves, but stick close to me, anyway. I've been dealing with scumbags like this for centuries."

She opened the door.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _And now you have been introduced to Faerun, the other world in which I spend much of my spare time. Hope you enjoy it! Oh, and do you like the new computer? I took it out of Dante's last tax refund._

Dante: _I _gave_ that to you, babe. Don't think you pulled one over on me, because you didn't. _

Queen: _Whatever. It only makes sense that you should have to pay for it, since it was _your_ boot that broke the last one. _

Vergil: _And so we agree on something. _

Queen: _You aren't totally faultless in this one either, Vergil. I wouldn't have had to get a new one if you hadn't ducked!_

Dante: _Oh please, not this again…_

(bottles clink)

Vergil: _Don't act like our squabbling is driving you to drink, brother. You already drank even before Queen and I started arguing about this._

Dante: _True, but your arguing always gives me a headache._

Queen: _That might just be the drink._

Vergil: _More likely it's just his head. He's not used to thinking._

Dante: _Do you need any more bullet holes, bro?_

Vergil: _What to try your luck?_

Dante: _Eat this!_

(guns fire, metal pings)

Queen: _Keep those on your side of the room! I can't afford another monitor!_

Vergil: _You heard the lady. Shall we take this outside?_

Dante: _Ladies first…_

Vergil: _Oh, that does it…_

(furniture breaks, bottles smash, loud cussing and breaking bones. Door crashes open, feet race outside)

Queen: _Boys. I swear, they never grow up! But I'll keep them anyway. I think._


	9. Mingling in Beregost

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: High T/low M

Mingling in Beregost

When Vergil entered the Red Sheaf Inn, he noticed immediately that there was an overabundance of the shady variety, men and women hooded and bent over their cups as if to hide from any who would gaze their way. The air was smoky with pipeweed fog, and the candles used for illumination did little more than paint garish shadows on the floor and walls. Here and there a tavern wench wove her way through the crowd, deftly evading hands that reached out to grope their partially-exposed breasts or pink at the rounded backs of their rustling skirts. This maneuver sorely taxed the balance of the mugs and bowls the carried on trays at shoulder-level, but never did the air ring with the din of earthenware ceramics crashing to the floor.

All eyes turned to him and Dante as they entered the common-room, staring at the white-haired twins with suspicious eyes.

Natasha mentally slapped herself. She'd completely forgotten that weapons weren't allowed in the Red Sheaf.

"Come on." She dragged them back into the cloakroom, the first part of the inn. "Give me your weapons."

The men stared at her, utterly aghast. "What?"

"Weapons, visible ones anyway, aren't allowed in here. Rule kept up so nobody has to explain an inconvenient body at some random time during the night. I'll put your weapons in the bag with my swords." She dropped her sword-belt and back-sheath into the bag of holding and held out the circle of silken blue fabric. "I swear, nothing will happen to them. Just put them in here, or we'll never get the information we need to find _her._"

After a short debate with himself, Dante reached back and pulled Rebellion out its strap, dropping it into the bag. He drew Ebony and Ivory, and Natasha had to remind him that she would take extra-special care with the bag as long as their weapons were stored in there before he relinquished his hold on the guns.

Now Vergil was the only one with a weapon in his grasp. His brother and lover looked at him, patiently waiting for him to give Yamato into her safekeeping. "The bag will return Yamato when you call for it?" he asked. His voice was steady, but Natasha thought she heard an undercurrent of pleading in his tone.

"I swear it will. Yamato will be safe in here; don't worry about it. If it wasn't, would I have put Foebane and Answerer in here?" She held the bag out to him. "Trust me. I wouldn't let anything happen to your weapons."

Almost angrily, he dropped his precious katana into the bag, silently vowing to tear both her and the bag apart if Yamato got stuck in there for some weird reason. His feelings for her didn't matter; that was _his_ weapon, a weapon his father had used. She paled in comparison to the katana's value to him.

Feeling strangely naked without the familiar weight of their weapons, he and Dante followed Natasha back into the common-room. This time, the gazes were shorter, more taking a measure of them than threatening them with immediate dog-piling, and then the patrons returned to their cups. They looked a little odd, but the strangers were obviously capable of taking care of themselves.

And very few of them didn't know something of the elf-woman they trailed after. She was not one to be trifled with, and if she had them with her, that said something very impressive about the white-haired men.

The female led them to a booth occupied by a grizzled old man, his ears slightly-pointed and one of his slanted eyes covered by a ragged black patch. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail, and his clothing was sporadically dotted with oddly-colored patches of fabric. He looked somewhat similar to Natasha, but at the same time something about him looked more…human. _Perhaps he's a half-breed?_ Vergil wondered absently, dodging around a drunk falling out of his chair with his usual lightening reflexes.

The man gave Natasha a knowing glance as she slid into the booth across from him. Vergil seated himself beside her, fastidiously brushing off the wooden bench before joining her, and Dante was left with sitting beside the old man. "Lady Nightsinger. Been awhile since I seen you here," he observed, guzzling at his pint. Drops of golden ale slid from the corners of his mouth to disappear into his beard.

"I need some information, Bits," she replied, getting straight to the point.

Vergil and Dante looked at each other incredulously. This man's name was _Bits?_

"Information I've got, as well you know, Natasha. You know my price. A free drink, shared with all persons taking part in the arrangement, and a few golders to sweeten the deal and loose my tongue."

"Aye, I know it." She signaled to one of the barmaids, who sidled up to the table immediately, her wide brown eyes fastened securely on Dante, who was slouching in his seat with an air of carelessness. Natasha pretended not to notice the woman's interest in the devil hunter. "One pint Dragon's Breath Beer, one goblet of Cormyrian Brandy, one pint of Luskan Stout, and a goblet of wine."

"We don't have any wine currently, lady. Not since Lars knocked some idiot out with the last bottle." Her eyes still hadn't strayed from Dante's muscular body, his bare chest.

"Fine. Two goblets of the brandy, then."

"Will that be all for you?" The wench bent over slightly, all but forcing Dante's head into her ample cleavage. His cerulean eyes were firmly fixed on the pale mounds threatening to burst out of their tight confines. "I can get you anything you want. Anything at all…"

"Sorry. We just want the drinks." Natasha kicked Dante's legs under the table, hard enough to make him wince and break eye contact with her breasts.

The barmaid pouted and flounced back to the barkeep with the order, making sure her hips rolled with every step, drawing the eyes of every drunk man in her immediate vicinity to her bouncing rear end.

"Tell me we aren't staying here tonight," Vergil said to Natasha in a barely-audible voice.

"No, we aren't. I'm not giving some whore the opportunity to get her claws into him," Natasha replied in kind. "Most of the barmaids here are also free-lance prostitutes."

"Then it is good we won't be staying here."

"I know. I've thought this out."

The wench was back a short while later, placing the mugs and goblets on the table where they could be easily reached. Then she reached a hand out to Dante's chest, lightly tracing patterns in the muscles there. "What room are you staying in?" she whispered in his ear.

Natasha and Vergil both narrowed their eyes. "I would _highly _advise…" the elder twin began, but was cut off by the female at his side.

"Back off, bitch," she snarled low, an authentic-sounding growl tearing itself from her throat. "He's mine. Both of them are mine. _And I don't share my men_."

The wench saw the murder in the elf-woman's dual-colored eyes and hurriedly stepped back from the red-clad twin. Giving him one more yearning glance, she fled to the safety of the taproom.

"Why did you do that?" Dante asked, pouting.

"Trust me, you don't want to have anything to do with the barmaids here. If they think you're my men, they will be less inclined to bother us." As if nothing had happened, Natasha doled out the drinks, giving Bits the beer, Dante the stout, and keeping the brandy for herself and Vergil. She took out ten gold pieces from her bag and, tucking the bag back into its hiding place in her cleavage (she always kept it there when she entered places like this), pushed them across the table to the old man.

He took a swig of his beer, belching in satisfaction as the fiery liquid burned a path down his throat, tore into his belly with all the teeth and claws of its namesake. "You always did remember my favorite drink." Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Massacres, Benigthyre Igmore Talasthian Sirandimid. Tell me about any villages destroyed under strange circumstances today."

Vergil had to fight to keep from smiling. With a name like that, was it any reason why he had chosen to go by his initials, humiliating as they might be? Dante was less subtle, his customary smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Bits threw them a dirty look. "Whatcha think I am, a damn seer?"

"I know that you don't keep a crystal ball in your house for no small reason, and that Thalantyre, the fifth master of High Hedge himself taught you the Art of Divination. If anybody could tell me what I need to know, it's you." She leaned forward slightly, spearing him with her green-and-gold gaze. "Speak."

"I ain't a dog, Natasha." He glared at her, and took another swig of his beer, watching in amusement as the white-haired warriors sampled their drinks. Vergil found the brandy to be quite delicious, and considered the possibility of convincing Natasha to purchase a bottle for what he had in mind later that night. Dante coughed as the thick, dark fluid blazed a trail through his upper digestive tract, but he soon took another mouthful, enjoying the taste. He was a pretty well-rounded drinker, but Natasha's world had apparently cultivated more interesting drinks than straight beer, vodka, and bourbon.

_I could get used to this place_, he thought, watching as another barmaid swished by, her tray filled with frothy pints.

"There was a strange incident, sometime just past noon. The village of Stone's Throw was destroyed, practically burned to the ground. No one got out alive, far as I can tell."

"Stone's Throw, huh? Did you catch any sign of the attackers?"

"Naw. I saw the destruction after the fact. Pretty gruesome. Don't think I've seen anything like it in all my years." He swallowed another mouthful of his beer. "You'd have to check it out yourself if you wanted to find any clues, whatever you're looking for."

"Where is this place?" Dante asked, knocking back the remainder of his drink.

" 'Bout fifteen, twenty miles up the Lion's Way and to the west, little village by the sea. You can't miss it." Bits looked over at the taproom, where three burly bouncers were emerging with the brown-eyed barmaid in tow. "Might wanna get ready to rumble. You've got company."

"A coward as always, Bits."

"That's them!" The barmaid puffed up with self-righteous fury, her finger pointing straight at the trio. "They nearly raped me where I stood, threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate!" She took a deep breath, and nearly popped her chest right out of its confines, much to the delight of the drunks seated around her. "They have _weapons._"

The bouncers thudded towards the booth with grim intent, but stopped short when they saw Natasha, half-hidden behind Vergil. "Lady Nightsinger!" one of them gasped.

"Are these two with you?" another questioned, taking a step back from the booth.

"Of course they are. Is there a problem?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, making her look far younger than she had seemed a few minutes ago.

"Well…erhm…. Elice here has a complaint against you and your friends." The bouncers were looking extremely uncomfortable now, and Elice had her mouth open in disbelief.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked. "They _violated_ me! They _threatened_ me! Get rid of them!"

You don't know who Lady Nightsinger is, do you?" the last bouncer asked her.

Elice shook her head.

"Bhaalspawn."

The woman paled, the blood draining from her face, and she stared at Natasha with absolute horror. She then curtsied deeply, and her voice trembled as she said "Forgive me, Lady Nightsinger. I seem to have misinterpreted the events incorrectly. Please don't kill me!" Then she fled, and with stiff bows the bouncers likewise departed, trying hard to look manly while they fled from two men far less bulky than they and an elf-woman they could have snapped over their knees.

Now everyone was looking at them. Natasha sighed and flipped a platinum coin at Bits. "Here's the tab. It'll cover us, and a few more drinks for you as way of payment. We're leaving now." She nudged Vergil. "We've gotten what we came for. Let's go."

DMCBGDDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Outside, Natasha gave them men back their swords, and allowed Dante to call Ebony and Ivory from the bag. She looked at the waxing moon overhead as she buckled her sword-belt around her slim hips, slung Cutthroat across her back. "C'mon. We should be able to get rooms at Feldepost's."

She trudged down the street, and it took a moment before Dante noticed the tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

"Hold up a minute, bro." Dante stopped her, tipped her chin up so that her tear-filled eyes shone clearly in the moonlight. "You're crying."

"It's nothing. I'm fine." She brushed the tears away, swallowed the lump in her throat with some difficulty. _You've been through tougher things without shedding a tear, _she chided herself. _Why are you crying now?_

Dante was looking at her with such understanding, such empathy, that Natasha's eyes welled once more. She felt another hand, Vergil's hand, on her shoulder, offering strength. "It's hard, isn't it? Like you said before: you can never really be free of the burden of your blood, no matter what you do to make up for it, or how much time passes."

"I don't know why this is affecting me so much," she murmured. "I've had worse incidents since I gave up the blood. This one didn't even involve pain and death."

"So strong, to put up with this every day for four hundred years. Now I understand what you spoke of before." Vergil moved closer to her, breathing his words hotly into her ear. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't condone such activity. But then again, you are not a devil like us. Go ahead. Shed your tears. You are allowed one moment of weakness after so many years of strength."

But Natasha didn't allow herself to cry, no matter how tempting it was to relax in their arms and pour out her constant pain on their willing shoulders. She had to be strong for them, for herself.

She couldn't protect those weaker than her if she let go of that strength, even for an instant.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Feldepost's Inn was a far classier place than the Red Sheaf had been. No drunken fools or smoky air here; the merchants and occasional traveling noble kept their drinks at a minimum, and did not indulge in smoking whilst indoors. The barmaids were uniformly more wholesome-looking, dressed in more modest, finer fabrics than the previous examples. Even the two bouncers had clean fingernails.

Natasha got them three rooms for the night, and after sharing a meal and a drink with the twins, she excused herself and went up to her room. Dante followed shortly thereafter (even he could see how gauche it would be to get drunk in a place like this), leaving Vergil alone in the common-room.

He smirked as he thought of Natasha upstairs, and sidled over to the barkeep. "Do you have Cormyrian Brandy here?" he asked silkily.

"Certainly, mi'lord." The barkeep pulled something off one of the shelves, a crystal decanter filled with a deep amber liquid. "Twenty gold pieces for the whole thing."

"Charge it to the tab of Lady Nightsinger." Vergil grabbed the decanter and headed up the stairs. Not even sparing his appointed room a single glance, he quietly opened the door to Natasha's quarters, set the brandy beside the bed on the small nightstand and stood over the elf-woman, surveying her wide-eyed form with utter satisfaction.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

When the noise started up next-door, Dante slammed his pillow down on his ears and wished his brother would invest in a gag for the elf-woman, and one for himself as well. "Maybe hooking them up wasn't such a good idea, after all. Who'd have thought they'd _both_ be screamers?"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Poor Dante. Although, I must mention that he's a screamer, too. Vergil has to put up with this sort of thing a lot more often than his brother does._

(transmission shows Dante winding his arms around Queen, laying a kiss on her temple)

Dante: _I thought you liked my screaming._

Queen: _I never said that I didn't._

Dante: _Yes, you did. _

Queen: _Thinking with your ego, as always._

Dante (nuzzling her hair): _You're killing the mood, babe._

Queen: _I'm not killing it. However, I am curious; where's Vergil?_

Dante: _Sent him out. A nest of Lusts and Sloths outside of town. Possible Hell Vanguard as well. _

Queen (laughs, reaches up to run her fingers through his hair): _Isn't that supposed to be _your_ job?_

Dante: _I've got better things to do right now._

(he reaches out, flicks off the monitor. Sound is still on)

Queen: _Dante, I have to finish this posting…_

Dante: _Well, I can play while you finish this. Then we can both play._

Queen: _Whatever you want, I suppose. _

(monitor flicks back on. Dante is nowhere in sight)

Queen: _Before he interrupts me, I might as well put down the usual request for reviews. I like knowing what people think of my WORK!!!_ (Queen jumps, takes a deep breath) _Dante, stop that…_

Dante: _Stop what?_

Queen: _What you're doing. It's distracting._

Dante: _Woohoo! She's upgraded me from 'annoying' to 'distracting'! Let's see if I can't get it a little higher…_

(Queen jumps again, head flopping limply backwards)

Queen: _Dear God, Dante…I can't think when you do that. I have to finish this…_

Dante: _Just tell them some stupid excuse, and I'll stop for a little while. I know you like that, Queen. _

(Another jump, and her hands fly over the keyboard)

Queen: _Must go. Please leave review. Sorry folks. He's driving me CRAZY!!!_

(monitor flicks off again, along with sound. Readers left with imagination alone)


	10. True Feelings

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: T with M overtones.

True Feelings

They lay together on the bed, the woman enfolding the man in her arms. His muscular body was heavy on her slender form, but she didn't mind. As long as she felt his weight, she didn't have to keep her barriers in place around her soul.

She didn't have to be alone.

The early sunlight streamed over their bodies, bringing out the blue highlights in her midnight tresses. He ran his fingers through them again and again, almost as if he didn't believe her to be real. Her hands stroked across his naked back, combed through his snowy hair with the same reverence and care he displayed with her.

His head was pillowed upon her breasts, and both were loathe to relinquish that intimate position. Neither wanted to end this brief respite, this moment of perfect peace.

It might be the last they would know together.

"I tried so hard." He finally broke the silence. He had to tell her this, no matter the consequences to himself. "I tried so hard, not to fall in love with you."

"I did much the same," she replied softly. Eye contact had yet to be made; his cerulean orbs staring at the wall, her gold-flecked green ones watching the ceiling. "I didn't want to hurt you, when at last I realized the truth."

"Our hearts are not so invulnerable as we had thought." He raised his head and traced his fingertips down the side of her face, bringing her gaze to him. "Pain is unavoidable now."

"Because love just isn't enough. I do not belong in your world, and you cannot make a home on mine." She slid herself further down beneath his body, bringing them face-to-face. "We both knew this to be a temporary arrangement, something that couldn't possibly last."

"But some things are beyond our control." He dropped his head onto her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her neck. "I almost wish we had never done this. But I do not regret loving you. How could I not, when you are everything I had ever dreamed of in my youth?"

"You sound like some smitten boy-child." She smiled, and turned her head to kiss him softly. "I do not regret this either. There have been so many others in my life, but none of them has touched my heart as you have. Not even…You know."

"I know." He ran a hand down her side, so gentle, sending a shiver throughout her body. The names of past lovers were not welcome in this moment.

"There is still time. Time to back out, to end this." She softly bit his shoulder, wringing a shudder from the man atop her. He enjoyed a little pain with his pleasure, much as she did.

"Our hearts are already involved. This relationship will end, but only when we must separate." He looked into her eyes, saw the fires of her soul responding to his. "Might as well take advantage of the time we have left." His lips, his tongue met her own, and suddenly she was digging her nails into his back, desperate need enfolding her in its fiery grasp.

"Aye, Vergil! Whatever you want, but let's continue this discussion at a later time!"

He mentally patted himself on the back, wrapped his arms about the woman once more. "As my lady wishes."

Dante loved this world.

Beer was pretty much all there was to drink, the women were willing, and real estate _had_ to be dirt-cheap.

And with this many monsters around, he would be able to make a fortune before his twenty-fifth birthday.

He blew some gun-smoke from Ebony's barrel, looking over the over-sized, yellow-skinned corpses sprawled around him with a critical eye. _Ugly bastards. Is this the best Faerun can offer?_

He had gone outside town, his city-token in his pocket, to take a look around, since Vergil and Natasha still hadn't come downstairs yet. He had come upon a small farm under attack by these monsters, and figured that he could use some exercise.

A single bullet to the head had been more than enough to take them down.

The eldest man of the house, a human dressed in simple homespun clothing, came tentatively out of the house to greet him, his curious wife and children looking on from the safety of the windows. "Well met to ya, mister. Thank ya for takin' care of them ogres. We were ready to give our souls to Lathander 'afore ya came along."

Dante twirled his guns and re-holstered them. "No problem, man."

"Nice weapons ya got there. Gnomes make 'em for ya?" the farmer asked, trying to get a better look at Ebony and Ivory.

Dante moved subtly to deny him that opportunity. "Made 'em myself. They ain't for sale."

"Heh, right fancy, they are." The farmer held out a hand, offering the devil hunter a handful of gold coins. "Here's payment for savin' our lives. Don't spend it all in one place, ya hear?"

Dante took the coins, examined them closely. "Thanks. I won't."

Waving to the kids and woman watching from the house, he turned back to Beregost with a wide smile on his face. He could afford his own drinks now!

But his hopes were dashed when he saw Natasha and Vergil waiting outside the inn for him.

"Where have you been?" Vergil asked, his fingers stroking over Yamato's hilt with deadly intent.

"Took a walk. Killed ogres. Got paid."

Natasha shook her head and grabbed Vergil's arm, stopping him from unsheathing his katana and impaling his younger twin once more. "You should stay with us, Dante. Faerun is a lot more dangerous than you could possibly imagine, even to a man of your talents and skills."

"They weren't so tough." Dante offered his brother a placating grin, hoping he wasn't going to have a sharp piece of metal rammed through his shoulder again. That hurt!

Natasha snorted, and stood up from the inn's front stairs. "C'mon. We have to pick up on Laraedina's trail. You'll see what I mean about Faerun's monsters sooner or later; I can practically guarantee it."

Vergil gave his brother a murderous look as he followed the elf-woman. Dante shrugged innocently, and trailed after his brother with a longing look at the bar, clearly visible through the windows.

"Surrender all yer money and yer goods, or fall where ya stand!"

The shout broke the reverie the companions had been traveling in as effectively as a hammer. All three warriors cursed themselves for letting down their guard as they moved immediately into a defensive triangle, each watching a different direction with weapons out.

"Show yourselves, cowards!" Natasha challenged, spellfire sparking from her left hand as she held Foebane ready in her right.

"I don't think so, missy. We have you firmly in our sights, so if you don't drop your weapons, we'll riddle you full of arrows!" This voice was smoother, more cultured. _Probably a noble brat taking up banditry for a lark. Won't be the first time I've seen it,_ Natasha thought. "That would be a real shame for you, missy. We have plans for pretty women like you."

Natasha smirked. "They've got us surrounded, up in the trees. Force them out, if you can," she whispered to the men at her flanks.

Vergil nodded, and fell into a crouch, dark, purplish energy crackling around his hand and katana. Dante twirled Ebony and Ivory, cocked them directly at the leaves. Red electricity enveloped the guns in a slow rush.

The energy, arcane and innate, was released at the same moment, as if by silent agreement. Natasha hurled a fireball at the trees before her, the blast rocking the ground beneath their feet and throwing bandits from their cover, smoking or enveloped in biting flames. Vergil flicked his hand out once, twice, three times, enormous globes of dark energy slashing into the leaves and through the hidden bandits like a knife through hot butter. Bullets in bolts of red power tore through their targets, and screams of agony accompanied the bandits as they toppled from their perches, clutching wounds cauterized by the same pieces of metal that had pierced their flesh.

All three of them had decimated the bandits' ranks to a mere five survivors within the span of six heartbeats.

Natasha went to one of the survivors, a half-elf with long brown hair and a stylish mustache. He had been one of her victims, and he bit back a scream of pain as she knelt over him, jerked him up so she could look into his eyes.

"Foolish," she hissed. "Obviously, banditry is not for you. If you survive the night, go into town and find yourself a decent way of life. I'm sure that option is better than letting me or my companions end your misery, is it not?"

She didn't wait for his answer, dropping him back to the dirt with barely a glance of concern. Natasha hated causing pain to those who didn't deserve it, but if one was foolish to piss her off, she would fight with all she had and more. Pity poor souls like this who thought to harm those she cared about. This was more mercy than she typically showed them.

Walking away, she didn't notice the bandit reach a shaking hand into his pocket, pulling something out and aiming it at her with shaking fingers.

She cried out as something hit her leg, bit into the flesh with more agony than a hornet's sting. A wave of sickness followed, and she realized that she had been poisoned. Her fingers only just got the bag of holding open before she collapsed to the ground.

Dante was at her side a moment later, followed closely by Vergil. They saw the tiny bolt stuck in her leg, and realized immediately what had happened. She rolled her head to look at them.

"Antidote…bag…." she managed to get out from between chattering teeth.

"Poison antidote!" Dante reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle that sloshed with green liquid. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, he held the bottle to her lips, helped her drink it. Her body arched violently, hands scrambling at the dirt, and then she went limp as a rag doll, totally boneless across his legs. "Did it work?"

"Aye," she whispered. "Just need….moment…rest…"

"Okay. Five minutes' break." He looked to his twin. "Vergil, what are you doing?"

Vergil was stalking across the clearing towards the bandit, his fingers clenched tightly around Yamato. Dante could feel the murderous intent his brother's eyes contained; he shrugged and pulled the offending missile from his patient's leg. If Vergil wanted to kill the bandit, then it was better to let him rather than stop him and get impaled again.

The world seemed to narrow down to the bandit, frantically working to reload his pathetically tiny crossbow, his eyes wide with terror at the blue apparition that had its gaze pinned firmly on him. Vergil saw nothing else, didn't care about anything else, in that moment. This man had nearly killed Natasha, almost torn her away from him with a single poisoned crossbow bolt.

For that he would suffer a slow, painful death.

The bandit managed to reload the crossbow and fired it at Vergil, certain that he would be brought down by the potent poison coating the tip. Vergil merely looked down at the tiny bolt lodged in his collarbone and pulled it out, savoring the look of horror and absolute terror in the man's eyes as he flexed the muscles around the wound, squeezing the poison out of his system in a slow black river. Any poison that he didn't get out himself would be utterly destroyed by the natural antitoxins in his blood; this little wound was nothing more than an inconvenience to one such as he. He kept his eyes on the bandits', making totally sure that the man could see his death in the blue mirrors.

He unsheathed Yamato, still holding the man's gaze in his own.

A tiny slash across the man's middle, and blood began oozing out in a slow red trail. The bandit couldn't understand why he had been spared with such a minor wound…

Until he realized that Vergil wasn't done yet.

"Brother, get her out of here," the half-demon called. "I have…business…with our friend here."

Dante nodded, and gathered Natasha up in his arms, continuing along the road they had been traveling before the bandits had assaulted them.

Behind them, Vergil grinned cruelly at the doomed man. One of the little tortures he had read about in a book about the Spanish Inquisition was called "Death of a Thousand Cuts."

And he intended to test it out on this foolish human as punishment for nearly killing the woman he loved.

Natasha came to several miles later, still carried in Dante's arms. Her body hurt, but it was no longer the kind of pain that had come from the poison. This was a cleansing sort of agony, the kind that said her ordeal was almost over, and soon she would be back to normal. She looked up at her carrier, and wondered where they were.

"Where…How long…"

"Seven miles north, and one mile west," Dante answered. "We should be at the village in an hour or so. You've been out of it for about three hours now."

"Damn, that was a potent poison." She put a hand to her head, looped the other around his neck to better support herself. "Thanks for getting the antidote so fast."

"Not a problem. You're the only one who can get us home from here."

"Yeah, I know." She looked around, expecting to see another man with white hair. "Where's Vergil?"

"He had some business to take care of. He'll be joining us soon enough; don't worry about him."

"What kind of business?"

"Disposing of the bodies. Like I said, he knows where we're going. He'll catch up to us sooner or later." Dante jumped over a tree that had fallen over the path effortlessly, as if her added weight didn't inconvenience him in the slightest. "Just rest, okay Natasha? You still look a little too pale."

"Wake me up when we get there." She rested her head against his shoulder, glad that she hadn't been alone when she'd been hit. She couldn't allow herself to die until her mission was completed. Nor could she abandon them like that. Until Laraedina was dead, and the twins were back in their own world with the portal closed behind them, she had to live.

She _had_ to.

Vergil looked at the pathetic remains of the bandit with a satisfied eye. He had been _extremely_ thorough in his execution of the Death of a Thousand Cuts; there was no space on the man's body that didn't have a tiny cut dividing the flesh. He had bled out only recently, and now the half-demon was free to go. His vengeance was complete.

He stood up and looked around. Any surviving bandits had long since crawled away, and the rest lay where they had perished. He had been apart from his companions for several hours now, three if he read the position of the sun correctly. It was time he rejoined them.

Orienting himself north, Vergil reached into the depths of his memories, allowing visions of bloodshed and battle to fill his mind, overwhelm his senses. He recalled the taste of freshly-spilled blood, the smell of it, the feel of it when there was so much sprayed across his body, his hands, that Yamato's hilt grew slick with it and the precious fluids of life were flung everywhere with each slice. When he felt as if he were drowning in blood and violence, he called to the demon within, beckoning it to come forth and take over his body for a brief amount of time.

The transformation worked just as well on this world as it had back home; the energy overwhelmed him, changed him, and in moments a tall demon of blue, silver, and black stood where before there had been a man. Catching the scent of his brother and woman on the wind, he spread his wings and took off, rocketing across the sky faster than any falcon could dream of matching.

In minutes, he caught up to them. Natasha was coming to just as he landed, transforming back into his human form too late to prevent her from seeing his demonic body.

He was suddenly terrified. Would she turn away from him in terror, in revulsion, now that she knew what lurked beneath the surface of his cool, handsome exterior?

She smiled tiredly at him. "You looked better than the Slayer ever did."

Queen: _What, did you honestly think that their demons would terrify her after she'd turned into something far worse? Believe me, the Slayer is a lot more horrific than Dante and Vergil's demonic forms. At least they are aesthetically pleasing to look at. The Slayer is just plain ugly, and totally insane. _

Vergil: _Funny, I always thought that's how Dante's looked. _

Dante: _Ha ha. Very funny, bro. _

Vergil: _Shall we ask Queen?_

Dante: _Didn't we just hear her opinion on the matter?_

Vergil: _How about it, Queen? Will you tell us who's devil is the better looking?_

Queen (muttering): _Good God, not another pissing contest…_

Dante: _What was that?_

Queen (clears throat): _Nothing. Fine, if you two must, let me see them. Lord knows I've seen them enough times as it is, but fine. Trigger if you must._

(simultaneous flash of blue and red energy. Queen circles the two demons, examining them thoroughly, as if judging a dog show. She hmms and haws, extends wings to check the span, holds out arms, measures muscles, etc. Finally she steps back)

Queen: _You may release the triggers now._

(energy flashes again. Vergil and Dante collapse onto couches, sweating from holding the triggers so long)

Vergil: _So what is your decision?_

Dante: _And what does the winner get?_

Queen: _Well, the winner gets a kiss. _

Dante: _Which means that I won, right?_

Queen: _Not exactly…_

Dante (jackknifes up from the couch): _You gotta be kidding me! If he wins, _he_ gets a kiss from _you

Queen: _Unless you want to kiss him…_

(seriously disgusted faces. Queen laughs)

Queen: _Okay, fine. I'll be the one doing the kissing. As for the winner, it was a close decision. Dante, you have the bigger muscles and better horns, and besides, I like the fangs. Vergil, on the other hand, has a better wingspan and less typical color-scheme. Blue and silver just work better together than red and silver. Gotta admit, his devil-form has a sexier voice too. _

Dante: _Now wait just a damned minute…_

Vergil: _You're throwing us bones here, Queen. Who's the better-looking devil?_

Queen: _There was only one factor that set the two of you apart. _

Vergil: _And that was…_

Queen: _Claw-length._

Both twins together: _What???_

Queen: _That was the only thing that set you apart, for the most part. And in that arena, Vergil won. _

Vergil: _Four to three. Which makes me the winner, correct?_

Queen: _Yep. _

Dante: _No! No fucking way! Queen, you can't kiss him! He's my _twin brother_ for Christ's sake! And you're my girlfriend! _

Vergil: _I don't see a wedding band on her finger, brother. So technically, although she is sleeping with you, she's still on the proverbial market. So she can spare me a kiss, isn't that right, Queen?_

Queen: _That is correct, Vergil. _

(gets up from computer, goes to Vergil. Straddles his lap)

Dante: _Queen, c'mon. You can't do this._

Queen: _He did win, Dante. Gotta give the winner his prize. And besides, I've been wanting to do this for a good long while now. Just to see if you two kiss differently, you see._

(transmission shows everything. Queen and Vergil kissing, Dante watching with mouth opened like a fish's. After a few minutes, Queen gets up and returns to the computer, licking her lips like a satisfied cat)

Queen: _Must admit, he's got good form. Good technique, but it's still missing something…_

Dante (sulking): _And that something is…_

Queen: _You. _

(launches herself across the room to Dante, now kissing him like a wild animal)

Queen: _Hands down, you win in this arena. But it was pretty damned close. _

Vergil: _Thank you so much, Queen. _

(he gets up and goes to the computer, blocking out the sight of Queen and Dante making out on the couch behind him)

Vergil: _Review please, as always. Now, I believe I shall leave the house for a while, before things get too out of hand. And I think I shall end this day's transmission now, as well… _

(flicks monitor off, turns off sound. Readers are left with a blank screen and many questions)


	11. Stone's Throw

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: T

Stone's Throw

Stone's Throw brought back memories of Saradush, a city that had been destroyed merely because Natasha, a Bhaalspawn who was thought of as a great prize, the highest sacrifice they could give their father, by her other siblings, had set foot therein. Like that high-walled city, the tiny village had been all but wiped from the ground upon which it stood. But as far as Natasha could tell, no one had escaped this carnage, where at least some innocents had managed to flee from Saradush. People had fallen where they stood, had had no possible chance to defend themselves against the whirlwind of teeth and claws that had torn through them.

This was worse than Saradush.

Natasha and the twins examined the corpses as closely as they dared, mentally cataloguing the wounds that had killed them. Natasha rolled onto his back the body of a young boy, more of a youth, really. He had died when a claw of some kind had torn his throat out, but more than that, he was missing an arm. The tattered strips of flesh dangling from the wound suggested that whatever had killed him had also wrenched the limb right off his body.

Finding the arm a few houses down confirmed her suspicions. A woman had had her head beaten in with the appendage.

Natasha stood and looked around. She'd seen some very gruesome sights in her many years of adventuring, but this one took the ale. If she didn't suspect otherwise, she would have thought that wild animals had committed this atrocity.

But she needed to see some proof of Laraedina's presence before she attributed this massacre to her and whatever allies she had brought with her.

"Natasha!" Dante's shout directed her attention to a small hut back up the street, where he was squatting before a small pile of bodies. She ran to him, skidded to a kneeling position beside him.

"What did you find?"

He pointed to the body of a small boy laying beneath an older woman, possibly his mother. The boy's head had been sheared clean off his shoulders, and lay in the dirt a few inches from the body. "Does that look out of place to you too?"

"This is too clean to have come from a claw," she mused. "And the blood is gone as well."

"Meaning…"

"Laraedina's sword is vampiric. It sucks the blood from its victims and channels the energy into its wielder, making her stronger and faster than she would otherwise be." She put a hand to her head. "She was here."

"Natasha! You might want to take a look at this!" They were by Vergil's side in moments. He was looking at something just beyond the wall separating Stone's Throw from the sea, a slightly disgusted look on his countenance.

When the other devil hunter and the adventuress joined him, he pointed at two corpses, both mostly eaten. "We, Dante and I, that is, have seen this before. The demons of our world devour their meals in this manner. More than that, do you sense that something is missing?"

Natasha got close to the gruesome bodies, examined them closely. A deep chill suffused her body when she realized what was missing. "Their souls are gone…"

"Soul-eaters," Dante said automatically, his fingers tightening on his guns. He and Vergil had both dealt with those octopus-like monstrosities more than enough times to realize when a human had been drained of their soul.

"I would think so too, but soul-eaters don't feed this way." Vergil stood up and brushed off his pants. "I think this is the work of two different demons, two that I had hoped never to meet."

Dante and Natasha gave him curious looks. "Explain, please…"

"While I was researching ways to open a portal into Hell, before I met Arkham, I came across a book that listed the major demons of our world. Mundus was mentioned, of course, as was Sparda, but two others whom I took note of were Tlaneskiar and Ssaliinthra. These two can be thought of as counterparts of Mundus, demons lesser than he but still undefeated by his forces. They were last seen in the wars between humanity and demons, but were defeated by Sparda and sealed in Hell along with Mundus." Vergil looked down at the corpses again, his face emotionless. "Basically an uber-powerful incubus and succubus, brother and sister, they are also known to feast upon souls and enjoy the spilling of blood on a level akin to any other lesser demon. One of their titles, in fact, is the Devourer of Souls and the Mistress of the Bloody Claws."

"Wonderful," Dante muttered. "So they eat souls, they are extremely powerful, and Laraedina's working with them. What else is new?"

"We are running out of time" Natasha said softly, staring to the north with wide eyes.

The twins followed her gaze, and their eyes widened too. A massive, nearly transluscent staircase was winding its way to the heavens above, and upon that staircase were three tiny figures, almost to the top.

"Laraedina, and the demons," Natasha informed them. "They've opened a Celestial Staircase."

"We have to get to them. Now." Vergil grabbed Natasha, and looked at his brother. "Can you trigger, brother?"

"If you can, then I can as well." Dante stretched, his bones cracking loudly. "Ready whenever you are, bro."

"Hold onto me, and don't let go," the older twin advised his woman, reaching into himself to touch the devil below the surface.

"I have a better way." Natasha threw her head back, and touched a jewel upon her belt. Immediately, her body began to shrink and grow thinner, scales growing upon her milky flesh and the lustrous black hair shriveling into her scalp. The twins watched in astonishment as her legs and arms withdrew into her body, and her shape twisted upon the grass, turning into something else entirely.

Within moments, a black snake was coiled upon the grass where before there had been an elf-woman.

The snake crawled over the grass and up Vergil's body until it reached his wrist, coiling itself securely around the appendage. He stared at it dumbly, and it raised its head to meet his gaze, its unblinking eyes on his own. He was even more surprised to see that Natasha's eyes were set into the serpent's sockets.

_Surely you didn't think that I would allow you to drag me along as you would a kite or something? _The voice tickled across his and Dante's minds like a silken breeze, soft as a whisper, but it was undeniably Natasha's voice. _This body is simply more convenient than my own. Rest assured, I will not let go of you until we reach the Staircase._

"I…was not worried about that, Natasha. You just surprised me, is all." Vergil shook himself, and threw a cocky smile at his brother. "Shall we race?"

"Only if you can keep up with me."

The air flashed with blue and red, and two demons completely new to Faerun flew away like strangely-colored meteors, covering miles in mere minutes with every flap of their wings.

They prayed that they would reach the Staircase in time.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Laraedina looked to the demons behind her, and threw them a triumphant smile as the Celestial Staircase appeared before them. She lowered her hands, and tried to hide the trembling in her limbs. Such power required to open the path… She was lucky that the forces she had channeled hadn't killed her.

"Come. Our victory is close at hand," she said to the demons.

"The seals await us, sister," Tlane rumbled, gazing upon the Staircase with his massive arms crossed over his chest.

"And after she attains her goal, we can have our payment, brother," Ssaliira purred, tossing her blue hair behind her shoulders.

Laraedina smiled evilly, and mounted the Staircase. The demons followed close after her, once they felt ready.

No sign of Natasha yet.

Laraedina was rather disappointed by her great-grandmother's failed appearance. She had hoped to kill her now, and allow Tlane and Ssaliira to devour her body and soul before she took the essences of Bhaal into her body, transforming into the new goddess of murder.

But she did not worry. Knowing Natasha, she would make an appearance sooner or later, along with whatever pathetic allies she had managed to seduce to her hopeless cause.

She would yet be able to carve her heart out of her chest, and mount her head on the Throne of Blood, a symbol to all of her followers of the price of failure.

Climbing the Staircase, she could practically taste the victory over her revered ancestress.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _So things are coming to a head. Will our daring trio catch up to their quarry in time? Will Laraedina release the seals containing Bhaal's essence? What exactly did the spirits mean in the fourth chapter, anyway? All will be revealed in time, as soon as I come up with the next chapters!_

Vergil: _Knowing you, that shouldn't be too long. You don't take months to make up stories like most authors do. _

Queen: _So I like to get my stories finished as quickly as possible. Is this so wrong?_

Vergil: _No. I never said it was._

(transmission shows Dante walking into the room, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. View of him is blocked by Queen)

Dante: _What are you two doing in here? _

Queen: _Finishing the latest chapter of "Sins of the Father" and putting up a new oneshot, "Abandoned."_

Dante (yawning): _Oh, that. I forgot you were planning on posting that._

(Queen looks at Dante, and stares. Laughter spills from her, prompting Dante to look at her strangely. There is no reaction from Vergil)

Dante: _What's so funny?_

Queen: _Have you looked in a mirror yet?_

Dante: _No…_

(Queen fishes a mirror out of the desk, allowing the readers to get a glimpse of Dante. There are red and white rings painted on his body, with black numbers above each ring. 10 points for the chest, 20 for the heart, 30 for the shoulders, 40 for the abdomen, 50 around each nipple, and the last ring is painted on the crotch of his pants, a full 100 points carefully outlined in light blue paint. Dante takes the mirror, stares, and immediately runs to the bedroom to take a better look at himself in a larger mirror. An outraged roar soon shakes the monitor)

Dante: _VERGIL!!!!!_

Vergil (innocently): _Yes?_

Dante: _I'm gonna KILL you!!!_

(white and black blur races across the room, which Vergil narrowly dodges. Laughing like a lunatic, he runs out of the room, Dante close behind him)

Queen (shaking her head): _Bull's eye targets. Even I gotta admit, that was a stroke of genius. I think that, for once, it may be Vergil's vital areas at stake here rather than Dante's. A change of pace, but not an entirely welcome one. I mean, I don't like seeing either of them hurt, fast healers or no. Anyway, please leave a review. The next chapter should be up soon, once I finish scrubbing that paint off Dante. Sure hope it was tempera, rather than acrylic. Turpentine just doesn't do well on skin._

Dante (outside): _Just wait 'till I get my hands on you, you asshole! You're going to be so full of holes people will think you're Swiss cheese!_

Vergil (still laughing): _I don't see why you're so mad, brother! I think it's an improvement! Now Queen at least knows where to aim when she makes her moves!_

(Queen shoves back her chair, Dante's indistinguishable snarl audible from outside)

Queen: _I should be up for sainthood, for putting up with this. Gotta run folks, before I have to put Vergil back together!_

(transmission ended)


	12. Race Against Time

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: T

Race Against Time

The Staircase had closed by the time the trio reached it.

Natasha, now back in her elven body, stared in dismay at the spot where the Staircase had been only moments before. Dante was cussing profoundly behind her, and Vergil said nothing. He merely stared up at the clouds with unreadable eyes, his fingers tightening and loosening on Yamato's sheath.

The elf-woman went to the Linking Stone, the rock that had been imbued with the power to extend the pathway between Faerun and the heavens, and tentatively lay her hand on it. The stone tingled at her touch; the Staircase would respond to her command.

But would she survive the power required to open it?

"What are you doing?" Vergil asked, noticing her actions.

"I'm going to open the Staircase." Natasha took a step back, crossed her wrists before her with hands held vertical at the wrists. She lowered her head, closing her eyes for a moment. When she glanced at the half-demon, he saw that they had turned pure white with the power she was channeling through her body.

And this was only the beginning.

"No matter what happens, you and Dante stay back until the Staircase is open. I know how to extend the path, but I've never tried it before. I've never had a reason to do so." She tuned her attention back into herself, to the Linking Stone before her. "I don't know what will happen."

A glowing nimbus licked across her flesh, her hair writhing and tangling in the rising currents of power. She stood in the midst of the maelstrom like a statue, unmoving and immovable, allowing the power to gather to her. When the outer reaches of the winds reached Vergil, he hissed in pain at the touch of it and sped backwards, away from the elf-woman, dragging his stunned twin with him. The power stung like hellfire when it touched his skin; how was the elf-woman standing it?

When the power had grown so thick it seemed as if a fog, Natasha began the incantation. Unlike previous spells she had cast, this one was cast as if it were a song, an operatic piece that grew in tone and power, rising in pitch, until the gathered power could be contained no longer. Natasha uncrossed her wrists, stretching her arms to the heavens, her hands cupped as if to receive the accumulated power between them, and with a final note that could have broken glass she flung her hands down onto the Linking Stone, channeling the spell into the article that could lead them into the realms of the gods.

The stone flashed and a line of nearly transparent _something_ snaked out of it, growing and spreading until at long last it touched the heavens, and became far more tangible, yet still transluscent.

The Celestial Staircase was open.

Natasha leaned heavily upon the Linking Stone, trying to catch her breath with moderate success. She had known she would survive the spell – she was, after all, one of the most powerful spellcasters on Toril – but it had still taken a lot out of her. There would have been no way she could have cast this on Dante and Vergil's world.

She turned to look at them, her eyes back to their usual gold-flecked green. They were staring at her, stunned awe upon their countenances. Clearly they had never witnessed a spell of such enormous power before, despite all their years of experience with demonic activity on their world. She offered them a triumphant, tired grin.

"'Tis done. The Staircase is open, and will remain so until we ascend to the top." She waved a hand at the glittering stairs. "Shall we?"

Dante let out a low whistle. "Jeez, that was strong. I never would have guessed you could cast something like that."

"Almost makes Mundus seem like small fry." Vergil stood next to her, helped her stand upright. "I bet she could take him with ease."

"Only on my world, Vergil. I couldn't have cast something of this magnitude without the aid of the Weave." She opened her bag and called for a healing potion, drinking it down with the ease of a seasoned drinker. A moment later, she was able to stand without aid. "They have a head start; to catch up with them, we'll need some extra speed."

"I cannot trigger again so soon, not until I have slain something and rejuvenated my energy stores," Vergil said. "Dante could, perhaps, but I am out for a while."

"I don't think you'd like the idea of being dragged along while I'm in devil form, bro." Dante looked at Natasha. "I don't suppose you have anything that could do the trick?"

"I could summon monsters and allow you to slay them, but that would take too much time." She looked at the Staircase thoughtfully. "I will have to do a Haste."

"A what?"

"It will speed us up five-fold. I can still expend a little energy; I will recharge soon enough."

The twins looked at each other with pursed lips, thoughtful eyes. They didn't like the idea of draining her energy anymore, as they were so close to their quarry. But there didn't seem to be any other choice.

"Do it."

The elf-woman nodded and began another spell, this one rushed beyond what most people's tongues were capable of.

In seconds, they were racing up the stairs, blurs of blue, red, and green that left streamers of light in their wake.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Laraedina couldn't believe how easy it was to get into the sanctuary of the gods. She had expected there to be some kind of guardian, but she and the demons had yet to run into anything hostile. Her green-and-gold eyes searched the well-lit corners suspiciously; why hadn't they been attacked?

Tlane and Ssaliira were restless, she knew. Restless demons were a very bad thing. Their alliance was a blood-pact, but would they remember that if their need to rend and tear, to feel hot blood spill across their flesh, grew too strong to resist any longer? Thus far they had been compliant, willing to aid her for the promise of wanton bloodshed, but the village had been the only murder they had partaken of thus far. She was the only thing they had access to at the moment; would they turn on her?

"Mortal, you stray onto hallowed ground. What is your purpose here, descendent of the Bhaalspawn?"

The demons and the elf-maiden turned to see a solar, a blue-skinned, golden-haired servant of the gods with angelic wings standing on the stone stairs cut into the side of the mountain before them. The androgynous being sounded female, and Laraedina was willing to bet that it was. The gender of solars and devas could only be revealed by their multi-tonal voices.

"I have come to claim the power that is mine, the essences of Bhaal my great-grandmother foolishly relinquished into your care," Laraedina proclaimed. "It is my birthright, my destiny, and you cannot steal that away from me, so don't even try."

"I cannot interfere in this matter, descendent. However, I would urge you to give up this foolish pursuit and return to your world. The essence of Bhaal was sealed away for a very good reason, and it is Fate's decree that they should remain sealed. Your ancestress understood this, and for the greater good she gave up the chance to ascend to a higher state of being under the guise of the goddess of murder."

"She was a weak-minded fool," Laraedina snarled. "I shall become the Lady of Murder, and see to it that she and all the other powerless weaklings of Faerun are punished for their weakness. If they cannot depend upon themselves for protection, then they do not deserve life."

"I weep to hear such things." The solar fanned her wings, and lifted herself from the ground. "Reconsider your course, I pray. There is far more at stake here than a self-proclaimed birthright that is far better sealed away than taken unto a mortal once more. As for the demons you bring with you, I would advise you to send them back to their own time and place. They have no place in Our creation. Your soul may yet be saved from damnation, Laraedina, but you must reach out and take that salvation. I cannot give it to you."

The solar was gone a moment later, and Laraedina was left with a sudden ache in her heart. The solar was right about one thing; she did fear eternal damnation for the deeds she had done. Unless she unsealed the essences of Bhaal, she would surely be punished for eternity in the Abyss for her dark accomplishments, all the innocent lives she had taken in the pursuit of power.

Her heart wavered for a moment, but then darkness seeped back into it, throwing out the fear and the doubt. Anger at herself filled her being, loathing for having given in to a moment of weakness, and she decided punishment had to be done.

Making sure the demons were not watching, she pulled up the sleeve of her black-and-red robes, baring her left arm. She withdrew a dagger from her belt, and placed the sharp tip against her scarred flesh; this was not the first time she had taken out her aggressions on herself under the guise of self-punishment.

A slow red line appeared on the soft flesh of her arm, dripping slowly across the pristine white in a weeping crimson river.

Every drop she shed would be repaid a hundredfold by the victims of her judgment.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Is it just me, or does it seem as if Laraedina is slowly losing her grip on sanity? What little was left, anyway? Oh well. I basically tried to make her a character you could sympathize with, but ultimately hate. _

Dante: _She's a crazy bitch, basically. _

Queen: _Yeah, she is. _

(looks up from the screen)

Queen: _Where's Vergil? He's usually up by now._

(Dante whistles innocently)

Queen: _What did you do to him?_

Dante: _Oh nothing. Just got him back for painting me with bull's eyes the other day, that's all._

Queen (pinches the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes): _Dante, what exactly did you do to him?_

(house shakes from volume of the outraged roar as Vergil discovers Dante's little payback)

Dante: _I'd say you'll be finding out in 3, 2, 1…_

(Vergil appears in doorway. His hair has been dyed pink, and there is a truly obscene cartoon done in black marker on his abs. This same marker has been applied to his face, giving him a black soul-patch and mustache, as well as glasses)

Queen (raises hands innocently): _I'm staying out of this one. _

Vergil: _You…Are…Dead._

Dante: _I don't see why. I think it's an improvement._

(races out of the room. Vergil devil-triggers and chases after him)

Queen: _Wonderful. Now the neighbors are going to have the exorcists after us again. And Vergil's so allergic to holy water… I'm going to have to make chicken soup and feed him with an eye-dropper for weeks. Please leave a review, as always, so I will have something to look forward to reading while he's bed-ridden. At least he doesn't need an Epi-Pen. And I'm going to have so much fun keeping Dante away from him while he's having an allergic reaction. Probably have to duct-tape him to the ceiling again. It's always so fun around here on the rare occasion one of them gets sick. I need to buy us a little place in the country where the neighbors are miles away. _

(looks to the window, cusses profoundly)

Queen: _Shit! The monsignor's here with the lesser priests! Damn, that was quick. Look at the size of those bottles! Gotta go folks! Bye!_

(transmission ended)


	13. Tests of Character

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: M, to be safe

Tests of Character

Natasha had never been atop Mount Celestial before. The only realm of the gods she had visited in her many years was her father's small corner of the Abyss, the Throne of Blood. To her curious eyes, the mountain of the gods seemed almost like any other towering bone of the world, but for one exception:

Lining the stone stairs that wound their way up the side of the mountain were statues of every god known to Faerun, the Lesser Powers standing alongside the Greater, the evil divided from the good by the neutral powers. It amazed her that they were here, but then again the gods were the most arrogant of beings. If they wanted to gaze upon their own perfect images every time they mounted theses stairs, then that was their prerogative.

"Why are there no guardians?" Vergil queried, his azure eyes watching the statues with mild suspicion.

"Mount Celestial, and other common meeting places of the gods, is neutral territory. The gods do not expect attack here, because they themselves are unable to harm each other in such places. What could possibly assault a place such as this, if not the gods themselves?"

But that is precisely what Laraedina is doing at this time, is it not, godchild?"

The multi-tonal female voice was so familiar that, for a split second, Natasha feared that she had fallen into the depths of her own memories, never to emerge again. But of course, no such thing had occurred. The same solar who had guided her, educated her, during the last weeks of the Bhaalspawn War stood before her once more, watching her with eyes of golden light. "Welcome to Mount Celestial, godchild, and to your half-demon companions I likewise give greetings."

"Might I inquire as to the reasons behind your presence here, solar?" Natasha asked, holding out an arm to restrain Dante and Vergil. Attacking this celestial being would be a VERY bad idea.

"These events go beyond the decrees of Fate. The essences of Bhaal are about to be released from the seals that have kept them hidden away for more than four centuries, and your own descendent will be the new goddess of murder, unless you stop her in time." The solar gazed upon her with such sadness in her eyes that Natasha was afraid. What could make a solar, a servant of the gods, so sorrowful? "You know in your heart what must be done. The seals containing the essence must remain intact. My question is, if Laraedina, with the aid of her demonic allies, manages to undo the seals and release the powers of your father, would you be willing to accept his essences back into yourself? You are the last remaining Bhaalspawn, and the essence would seek out its original container, if that container still draws breath. Would you be willing to shoulder the burden of your blood, of your birth, once more to defeat the one who would absorb the rest of the essences and become the Lady of Murder?"

Natasha was silent for a long time, her eyes lowered in thought. At last she raised her head, and the twins saw the sheen of tears in her beautiful eyes. "If I must become a Bhaalspawn once more to defeat the specter of my father's power, then so be it. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that Bhaal's power will remain under the protection of the gods, where it belongs."

The solar nodded. "Very well, godchild. Now, I must subject you and your companions to a test. Worry not for losing the ground you have gained in pursuit of your quarry; they are undergoing similar tests of inner strength at this very moment. To reach the essences, you must pass this test. It will force you to confront certain truths about yourself, and in the case of your companions, certain truths about you. If these tests are passed, then you can continue on your way."

"And if we fail?" Dante called out.

"Then you will be ejected from Mount Celestial, and all will be lost." The solar fanned her wings, stirring currents of air around the three mortals. "I regret that I must put you through this, when so much awaits you, but this is one of the safeguards protecting the essences. Even the gods must be subjected to them, if they wish to come closer to the seals."

"Very well, solar." Natasha licked her lips, gripped the hilts of her swords. "Administer the test."

"Luck be with you, godchild."

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

_She was floating in a midnight void, her feet standing secure on ground that wasn't truly there. She was alone, her companions were nowhere to be seen. She wondered what this place was._

_The sound of a sword leaving its sheath brought her attention to a blur racing towards her, and she just managed to get her blades up to parry the attack. Her assailant was hooded and cloaked; she was unable to see the face or even the body. _

_The attacker backflipped away from her, and held up a gloved hand. Spellfire lined the fingers, and she just managed to erect a shield before lightening shot at her, its pristine brightness failing utterly to penetrate the blackness surrounding her. _

_The shield rocked beneath the assault, but it held. _

_The hooded attacker charged once more, and for long moments she was occupied with defending herself. Whoever this being was, they were an extremely skilled fighter. A foot lashed out at her jaw, but she bent backwards so it flew across her chest harmlessly, and when she came up her right blade was poised to cut into the assailant's abdomen. The attack was blocked with the dagger in the other's left hand, and it was retaliated with a cut that slashed across her cheek, slicing into the soft flesh with ease. _

_She had had enough. She spun with the blow, and when she came back around her right sword led, slashing deeply into the attacker's side. _

_Face grim, lips tightly pursed, she twisted the blade and tore it savagely from her enemy's flesh. Her mouth formed words of furious nature, telling the hooded assailant to perish from the wound. _

_The dying attacker staggered back from her, and collapsed to its knees, holding its side with trembling, blood-stained fingers. The opposite hand came up to shove back the hood, revealing the face at long last. _

_She gasped, her blades slipping from her weakened grasp._

_The face…_

_It was her own._

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

_He was in a lushly-appointed hallway of some sort, torchlight flickering high on the walls. A row of doors lined the walls, and from behind each came the sounds of passion. Sighs and groans, screams and cries filtered out into the hall, and he was curious as to why he was here. _

_A door, the closest to him, slowly opened into the hallway, and he was drawn to it as if by a magnet. He was struck with inexplicable fear; he didn't want to know what lay in that room, or any of the others._

_But his feet dragged him closer to the gaping portal, completely separate from his will._

_Then he was before it, and his eyes took in the scene which greeted him. His woman lay on the bed, her head tossing, her mouth open in screams of passion. A man moved atop her, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso. From what he could see, this man was handsome indeed. _

_The fact that his woman, his love, was reacting so strongly to him brought a small groan to his lips. Despair filled his mind, and he reached out to grab the lintel of the door for support his legs were unable to give him. _

_The man looked back over his shoulder to him, and he saw the fires of a dominant male in his dark eyes. "Leave now, insolent buffoon! She is mine; I was her first. You have no claim to her, this female who was my wife!"_

_The man was her long-dead husband. He knew he was dead, four centuries in his grave, but here he was, flesh and blood, totally alive. _

_And making his woman writhe in ecstasy, as he had so many times before._

_He staggered away from the door, and suddenly all of the doors were open. His treacherous feet dragged him to each of them, forcing him to witness the sights that awaited him therein. She was in each of the rooms, and in every room there was a different male, all of them having sex with her. _

_He wanted to scream when he reached the final door, at the end of the hall. If he had to see one more vision of his woman laying with another man, he would utterly lose control of himself. _

_And possibly kill everything in this cursed place._

_The door swung open on silent hinges at his approach, and he braced himself for the worst. _

_No sights of shared passion awaited him. Instead, she sat upon a bed alone, her hair covering her glorious nakedness. Her eyes regarded him solemnly as he came nearer, and the door closed behind him. _

_"I saw you, with all of them. Each of the men you have allowed to share you body in your life."_

_"I know." Her voice was quiet, carefully emotionless. "And what conclusions have you reached about me?"_

_"That you like sex. That you are only using me, to sate your own physical needs."_

_"Much like yourself, in that regard."_

_Her observation was right on the mark. His original interest in her had been merely to fulfill his own sexual needs._

_But it had grown into something more._

_"I wasn't finished." He sat beside her on the bed, turned her head to look at him. "I also see that you are strong enough to live with the consequences of your decisions, even if it brings you much pain and suffering later on. You actually care about these men, even if it was only for a single night." His eyes held her steady. "You only allow the men you trust, that you find a sort of kinship with, to share your body."_

_"And so you know part of why I was so attracted to you when first we met."_

_His head dipped to her own, very close. "We suit each other very well indeed."_

_"You know all this about me, and yet you still accept me?" _

_His arms snaked around her, pulled her tight against him, his lips buried themselves in her neck. "I already accepted you, even before this. What you had with those men is long since past, and now I am your current choice, as you are mine. How could I reject you over something that is long since finished?"_

_Her arms came up, and wound themselves about him. "I'm glad…"_

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

_He stood in the middle of a battlefield, a blasted plain carpeted with the bodies of the dead. Their eyes stared sightlessly up at him as he made his way between their owners, inwardly horrified by the nature of their wounds. Sword wounds interspersed with the marks of claws and fangs, and here and there were the wounds of arcane activity, the burns of magical fire and electricity scarring the bodies with almost artistically beautiful patterns. _

_Maniacal laughter directed his attention to a small hill in the middle of the field of death. A figure stood there, hair and cloak whipping to the side in the hot wind, twin swords raised in a triumphant gesture. The world rushed at him, and suddenly he was before that distant figure, his shocked gaze taking in the blood sprayed across her face and body, the carnage that surrounded her in a perfect ring. Her green-and-gold eyes regarded him from behind their crimson mask with a butcher's glee. _

_"Isn't it glorious? All these puny mortals falling to my blade like wheat to the reaper!" She laughed again, and spun in place, strutting away to grind her heel into a body that moaned still. She looked back at him over her shoulder, eyes alight. "Isn't this magnificent?"_

_He was both horrified and fascinated. Never would he have suspected that she was capable of such things! He had wrecked similar carnage before, but never on humans, and always in defense of others. This was murder for pleasure, and he found it sickening. _

_"How can you enjoy this?" He gestured to the macabre scene, unable to articulate to her the depths of his disgust. "None of these men did anything to you; none of them even have weapons! How?"_

_She laughed, and he saw that her eyes were red now._

_"You aren't Natasha." His fingers tightened on his guns, slipping into the trigger-guard. "Who are you?"_

_"Oh, I am Natasha Nightsinger." The female sauntered across the battlefield, her crimson eyes watching his glacial blue ones in amusement, sly at the corners. "However, I am not the weak-minded fool you came here with. I am as she would have been if she hadn't given up the power that was her birthright, the monster she carried around for two decades." Her flesh split, and she gained stature and girth until the same horrific monstrosity he had seen in Natasha's illusion back in his office stood where she had been before, small strips of skin dripping from its red/black carapace to fall in piles around it. It spoke in a deep, oddly feminine voice, gurgling up from the depths of its throat. "I am Natasha Bhaalspawn, the Lady of Murder!"_

_The Slayer leapt at him, and he just managed to get away. The thing was much faster than he had expected, almost faster than his own devil form. How could something so big be so damn fast? He triggered himself, and met it with sword raised. _

_Teeth the size of daggers met the razored edge. Claws sharp enough to shear through metal tore through the leather protecting his body. A tail lashed out to smash against his kneecaps; he grunted, but stayed upright. Four arms slashed at his body, and he danced out of their reach time and again. Wounds had yet to be landed, but he knew it was only a matter of time before blood, either his or hers, was spilt across the thirsty ground in a crimson rain. _

_She ripped at him once more, and he whipped his oversized blade at her exposed back; the edge tore into her spine and out the front, spraying black blood across the corpses at her feet. She collapsed to the ground, rolled over onto her back. As he stalked in to finish it off, the body reverted to its original appearance, that of the elf-woman he had come to know as a trusted friend. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to kill her._

_He didn't hesitate. His skull-hilted blade sheared down to her chest, piercing her heart with deadly accuracy…_

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

And he was suddenly back in his own body, standing on the stairs of Mount Celestial beside his twin and friend.

It had all been a dream.

"Well done, godchild and half-demons. You have witnessed the depths of your fears and have conquered them. You may proceed to the seals." The solar lifted into the air, and saluted them with her flaming sword, a gesture of respect rather than challenge. "I wish you luck. Know that all of the gods pray that you succeed in maintaining the seals."

"If they care so much about this, then why aren't they helping us?" Dante wondered, watching the solar disappear.

"The gods are limited to certain things by the decree of Ao, the Overfather. They cannot interfere in mortal affairs to the same extent they once could, before the Time of Troubles. Subtly influence them, yes, but not outright change them. If they could interfere, do you honestly think that Cyric, or some of the other gods with whom Bhaal would have been of interest, would have allowed any of the Bhaalspawn to come of age?"

Dante mumbled something indecipherable. Vergil moved up beside her. "Shall we chase down your descendent?"

Natasha looked to the stairs with haunted eyes. "Yes. Let's get this over with."

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _And so we now see more of Natasha's character, and what she might have been, had she chosen a different path at the crucible that was the Throne of Bhaal. I'm not going to be posting exactly what Laraedina and the demons went through, but perhaps you will find snippets of it in the next chapter. If I'm feeling generous, that is._

(sneezing and heavy footsteps come from hall. Queen rolls her eyes)

Queen: _What's he doing up? He's too sick to be up and about. You see, in addition to having an allergic reaction to the holy water the monsignor was throwing around yesterday, Vergil has also caught a rather nasty bug due to his lowered resistance from the allergy. How nasty, you ask? Well, let's just say that I have to keep a seriously big bucket next to his bed right now along with the Kleenex and leave it at that. Poor guy._

Vergil: _Queen, is it time for my Pepto-Bismol yet? I could really use it. _(blows nose)

Queen: _Yeah, I guess so. I'll get it for you if you'll get back in bed. You shouldn't be up and about in your condition. _

Dante: _I could put him out of his misery with a good whack to the head if you would let me down from here!_

(Queen tilts the monitor up, revealing Dante laying on the ceiling, nearly mummified by duct-tape. Only his head his free of the silvery tape, and even then a strip is across his forehead, holding his head in place)

Queen: _I'm not letting you near him, Dante. He's miserable enough as it is right now without you teasing him. _

Vergil: _Nice to know that someone actually cares about me. _

Queen: _I can't turn down someone suffering, Vergil. You know that. Now get back in bed, and I'll get your Pepto, okay?_

Vergil (too sick to argue): _Fine, Queen. I'm going._

(Dante opens his mouth to say something, but Queen shoots him a Look)

Queen: _You say a single word, and I'll tape your mouth too. _(tilts the monitor back down)_ As always, review please! Reviews might do wonders for Vergil's immune system and my sanity, and possibly convince me to get Dante down off the ceiling. _

Dante: _I'm going to make sure there's a transmission up when she actually does let me down from here, just so you all can hear me yell and then chew Queen out for duct-taping bare skin. Yes, I'm wearing pants, but I can't say the same for my chest and arms! Hey Queen, you are going to let me have some dinner, right?_

(Queen smirks, reaches out to end the transmission, gets up and walks out of the room)

Dante: _Queen, you can't just leave me up here and forget about me! Hey Queen! Queen! QUEEN!_

(transmission ended)


	14. Mountain's Peak

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: High T

Mountain's Peak

They trudged up the mountain slowly, conserving their energy. The demons were quiet behind her; whatever they had seen had been enough to silence their usual talkative mouths. At the moment, Laraedina welcomed the silence; she was busy wrestling with her mind.

The test the solar had given her had consisted of a series of images. The deaths of her mother, her first lover, and her first teacher at her own hands, and then a battle against Natasha. Throughout the fight, her ancestress had been questioning her past, asking about her motives ceaselessly. Wondered why she would do such a thing, to release the essence and condemn herself to an eternity of strife and bloodshed, when life could offer so much more than blood and betrayal.

Laraedina had snarled back her personal creed: "Weakness is unforgivable. Only the strong are worthy of Life."

Natasha had looked at her with such sorrowful eyes then, even as she parried a blow that would have sliced her in half. "Then why are you still alive?"

Laraedina's response had been to blow her into a mist of blood and tiny specks of flesh. She was not weak. She had never been weak. She had killed everything that had claimed to be stronger than her, had she not?

But still, the words had remained with her, especially after she turned and saw an image of herself, resplendent in robes of purest white velvet, watching her. The doppelganger had gazed upon her with sadness, her eyes a twin to Natasha's, and then turned away, walking into a portal of light with nary a word.

What did that image mean, she wondered. Was this a vision of what might have been, had Tilephina not slain Alaenasor, and taken her infant daughter away to Mir to raise as she saw fit? Was that glorious elf-maiden in white robes what she should have been?

And why did seeing her depart cause her such agony?

_Perhaps it was a symbol of your weakness, your doubts and your fears, being cleansed from you, _her mind whispered. _If such is the case, then this can only be a good thing. You were not banished from Mount Celestial; that must mean that you made the right decision. _

Or perhaps not.

A ghostly green filled her vision, and Ssaliira moved up beside her. "I can sense the power. We are very close to our goal," the demoness purred, her sharp-nailed hands running lightly down Laraedina's arm.

"Let us be done with this, that the feast may begin." Tlane, she knew, was especially impatient for the souls promised him. Ssaliira was just as eager, but she was not so obvious in her hunger as her sibling.

"Yes. Let us undo the seals, and release the essences of Bhaal."

The demons walked into the pillared hall that held the seals and the essences, eager to finish their part of the bargain so they could run rampant across Faerun, across Toril. But Laraedina paused, and glanced back down the stairs. Natasha was nowhere in sight, but she knew that she would make an appearance sooner or later.

And then she would kill her, spill her blood across the pristine marble of the floors, and carve out her heart, a fitting trophy for a goddess like her. She would prove, once and for all, that her renowned great-grandmother was no more than a sham, a weakling that was powerless against her own descendent.

And no one would be left to stop her. No one.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha paused, and glanced up at the peak of Mount Celestial. Dark clouds were gathering; power flickered in the air. They were running out of time.

"Laraedina is at the seals. We have to hurry!" She began running up the stairs, Dante and Vergil following close behind. If ever there was a time when they wished for their devil forms, it was now.

But the devils were quiet. There was not enough energy to materialize them yet.

The steps flew by beneath their feet, but in their hearts they knew that they would be too late.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Laraedina approached the seals, and the demons followed closely behind, examining the markings with great interest. There were three glyphs raised upon platforms of stone, each with a different purpose of warding. These glyphs powered a ring of containment, and within that luminescent circle was a towering pillar, made of purest crystal.

Inside the crystal pillar, the source of the eldritch glow was apparent.

The essences of Bhaal.

Laraedina looked upon them with raw desire, as a starving man gazes upon a piece of meat. This was what she had been after, all these years. This was the goal that had marked her ambitions for her entire life, the destiny that she had sold herself for over and over and over again. For this she had slain countless innocent souls. For this she had killed her mother, bathed in the blood of those she had once held dear.

For this she had sold out her entire homeworld, and the multiverse in which it lay.

"The seals must be undone by three sentient beings of the appropriate levels of power," she said to the demons. "This is why I have need of your aid. I can undo one of the seals, but not all three. They must be undone at the exact same moment, or the containers will hold."

"What must we do?" Tlane rumbled, gazing suspiciously at the closest seal with something akin to hatred.

"Channel your power into the seal, and command it to release its power. Your will commands the seal, and when the will of the seal is broken, its power will be broken as well." Laraedina took a place at the nearest seal, the one closest to the entrance. "Are you ready?"

"Of course we are." Ssaliira gave her brother a sharp look, and went to one of the seals. He grumbled, but took his place at the final stone-carved rune.

Together, they placed their hands on the stone that held the glyphs, and concentrated hard, battling with the powerful beings imprisoned to power the runes. Every ounce of their formidable wills, their enormous power, went into the seals, and the spirits fought back with surprising tenacity.

But they could not hold out for long.

The seals began to crack.

Sensing victory, the demons and the elf-maiden pressed onward, commanding the spirits to release their power, and remove themselves from the seals.

With a final rumble of protest, the glyphs crumbled, and collapsed onto the floor in piles of fine dust. The ring of containment flickered and died out, leaving the crystal pillar on its own.

Laraedina approached, noting with more than a passing interest that the swirling essences sped up in their twisting dance as she came closer. She raised one hand, summoned arcane energy to her grasp, and a spell tore out of her throat.

A bolt of lightening shattered the crystal.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha was almost to the top of the stairs when a mist of emerald fire raced towards her. She cried out, and held up her arms, guarding her body from this strange assailant like a seasoned boxer.

But it was no use.

Vergil and Dante caught up with her just as the animate mist crashed into her body. Natasha jerked and screamed, eyes wide with sudden pain, her body dancing as if caught in an electrical current. A green nimbus lined her body; currents of blackest power flickering across her milky skin, and she screamed once more, this time more in horror and despair than actual pain.

Then her body crashed to the stairs, and she huddled on the cool stone, folding in upon herself like a child, her hair spilling like an inky puddle about her. The twins were by her side an instant later.

"What the fuck was that?" Dante demanded. He saw no sign of the attacker, but he remained on guard. Where there was one enemy, there was usually another.

"Natasha, was that…" Vergil raised her head from the stone, saw the tears in her eyes. "Tell me it wasn't that…"

"What? What did you think it was?" Dante looked at them, fear and concern warring in his icy blue eyes. "C'mon. Tell me!"

"The essences have been released." Natasha stood up slowly, feeling the old, despised power, the taint, running through her blood. "I am a Bhaalspawn anew."

"And Laraedina?"

She said nothing. Her eyes traveled up the stairs to the peak of the mountain, and neither Dante nor Vergil could decipher the expression in her eyes.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _What's that? You wonder what has become of Laraedina and the remainder of the essences? Tune in next time, folks, for the answers to these questions and many more!_

(Vergil wanders into the room, sits on the couch. He looks a lot better than he had in the previous transmission)

Queen: _Feeling better, I take it? _

Vergil: _Yes. I was actually able to keep some Sprite down this morning. Perhaps this bug is soon to pass._

Queen: _We can only hope. I don't like seeing you like this. Illness doesn't suit you at all._

Dante: _Now that he's up and about, can you please get me down?_

(he's still stuck to the ceiling)

Vergil: _I think staying up there has done you a world of good, brother. It has kept me from castrating you, after all. _

Queen: _And he's so cute, hanging there like a big white-topped balloon…_

Dante (incredulous): _Excuse me? CUTE??? Queen, I think the lack of my attentions has made you delirious. I can remedy that if you will just let me down. I mean, four days is more than enough of just hanging up here! I'm starving, I seriously need a frickin' shower, and you have _no idea_ how bad I need to use the bathroom._

Queen: _Well, I suppose that alone means I must get you down. Can't have a sudden warm rain indoors, after all. I certainly wouldn't want to clean that up. _(gets a box-cutter knife from desk, pulls a chair over to the floor beside/under Dante) _Now then. As long as you promise not to bother Vergil until he's completely healthy again, I'll let you down._

Dante: _Fine. Now let me down!_

(Vergil watches from couch while Queen begins slicing at the duct-tape. After a time, he gets up and goes to the computer)

Vergil: _While she gets my somewhat sticky sibling down off the ceiling, I beseech you to leave reviews, as always. Reviews keep Queen posting her fics, and gives us something to do in our spare time. _

Dante: _Hey, wait a minute! There's no…_

(last strip of duct-tape is cut through. Dante, still covered from the front in silvery tape, falls heavily to the floor)

Dante: _Cushion…_

Queen: _Sorry 'bout that. Now, to get this duct-tape off you…_

(Vergil moves away from monitor so readers can watch proceedings. Queen puts one foot on Dante's prone form, takes hold of one bunch of criss-crossed tape, and yanks. The tape comes off with a loud ripping sound, and Dante can't suppress his yelp of pain)

Dante: _Jesus, woman, that fuckin' HURTS!!!_

Queen: _Sorry Dante, but it has to come off. Now if you're a good boy and hold still, I'll make it worth your while later tonight._

Dante: _Fine, but only if I can use the ropes on you. Gotta punish you for putting me up there in the first place, after all._

Vergil (rolls eyes): _Here they go again…_

Queen: _I thought you said 'punishment.' You know I love it when you use the ropes or the handcuffs._

Dante (grinning widely): _I didn't say what I'd be _doing_ to you while you're tied up, now, did I? And I'm still gonna hold you to that promise about making it worth my while to lie still while you get the tape off me._

Queen: _All right, but you only get the reward and the ropes if you stay still and don't fight me, okay?_

(Dante nods. When she begins to yank off the tape, he stays still, growling softly through the pain. At last, the tape is off. His skin is red, but he is otherwise unharmed)

Dante: _Now then…Let me take a shower, and we'll see about rewarding me and punishing you…_

Vergil: _This is gonna be a long night…_

(transmission ended)


	15. Essences Released

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: T

Essences Released

Laraedina threw her head back and tilted her neck, her arms spread wide as the essences filled her body, reformed her from the inside out with an agony that spread through her like slow fire. This power…so much greater than anything she could have dreamed to be possible. How had Natasha give all this up? What madness had possessed her, to renounce her claim to this magnificence?

And Bhaal had only been a _Lesser _Power! With this much power at his beck and call, how had he stood for it? With this, he could have conquered the heavens themselves!

At long last, the transformation released her from its grasp, setting her gently to the floor. Laraedina stood several inches taller than she had before, and appeared more physically perfect than previously. Tlane now saw her with no small amount of desire, and Ssaliira with a touch of jealousy. Unaware of their reactions to her new appearance, the elf-woman flipped her mane of golden silk behind her shoulders and turned her green-and-gold eyes to the demons.

"I am the goddess of murder, the Reaper of Blood! Our goal is completed; now the slaughter may begin!"

Tlane and Ssaliira exchanged looks. "You did not see it, then," the ebon male stated.

"See what?"

"Some of the essences, a rather large portion, in fact, separated out from the rest and went back down the mountain." Ssaliira waved a hand back the way they had come. "You absorbed most of them, and I can sense the sudden, dramatic increase in your power, but you are not a full goddess yet. You need that portion of the essences first."

"By our blood-bond, we cannot have our feast until after you have gained total godhead. Ergo, we must help you retrieve the missing essences." Tlane sniffed suddenly, his senses telling him that something demonic from his world was approaching.

But how could that be?

Laraedina snarled, then threw back her head in an enraged scream. _It couldn't be! She had relinquished her portion of the essences! This was impossible!!!_

"Somebody's in a bad mood, wouldn't you say, Vergil?"

"I'd agree, brother. It seems that not all has gone according to plan."

The voices, the mockery, spun Laraedina around to face the entrance, a green orb floating above her palm and an ugly snarl marring her angelic features. She hurled the disintegration bomb at the entrance without even seeing who had mocked her, the imminent Lady of Murder.

There was no explosion. Whatever the orb touched when it expanded to its fullest diameter was simply gone, as if it had never been. For good measure, Laraedina also lobbed a fireball at the area, just to make sure she'd silenced the voices for good.

When the smoke cleared, an enormous crater obstructed the entrance. However, she had failed to blow her hecklers into smithereens. They landed before the crater, completely unharmed.

Two white-haired men, one in red leather and the other in silken blue, and an elf-woman wearing glowing green chain-mail.

Natasha.

Laraedina's eyes narrowed.

She knew where the essences had gone.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha stared across the room, directly into eyes that were a twin to her own, and had a sudden sense of déjà vu. This was essentially the same scenario she had encountered all those years ago, before she had given up her portion of Bhaal's power and all claims she had to the Throne of Blood. A woman crazed by power-lust, taking the essences unto herself to become a goddess. Her companions standing beside her, ready to end this threat once and for all.

The taint within her body surging against her control as it encountered the remainder of itself, eager to rejoin the collective whole of Bhaal's power.

But this was not the same situation as before. This was Laraedina Delryn, her own descendent, not Amelyssan the Blackhearted. She only had two companions she had come to know and trust in the span of four days, rather than five friends she had adventured beside for more than a year. This was the peak of Mount Celestial, not the Throne of Blood in the Abyss.

But one thing remained constant. She was a Bhaalspawn then, as she was now.

She could feel the taint seething in her body, slithering throughout her soul like some insidious serpent. It was a canker, a festering wound that had tormented her when she had come of age four and half centuries ago. This was what had taken so many companions from her side, what had brought about the deaths of so many innocents simply because she had come into contact with them. This was the original source of her adventures, her power. Her eternal torment.

Her fingers moved and spells left her lips. She cast stoneskins to cover the flesh of her herself and her companions, layered protective dweomers to strengthen their hearts and speed their arms.

She had gone through this ordeal once before. She knew what to expect.

"You take the two demons. Laraedina is mine."

Her voice was soft, devoid of any emotion. No weapon to give her semi-divine descendent.

Across the room, Laraedina gave herself a stoneskin and drew Night's Kiss, a wicked grin on her lips as she thought of Natasha's heart spitted upon her blade. Tlane summoned a spear with a truly evil-looking, jagged head mounted on the shaft. Ssaliira called to two long blades that she held in a reverse grip, the hilts strapped to her wrists to prevent disarming.

Dante ignored Ebony and Ivory, going straight for Rebellion. Vergil slid Yamato from its sheath.

Natasha readied Foebane and Answerer, the most effective weapons in her arsenal against a being such as Laraedina.

She steeled her heart to what she must do, trying to ignore the taint whispering to her beneath the surface of her soul, commanding her to transform into the Slayer and end this charade of mortality, to claim the power she had denied for so long. She tried hard not to listen to it. Her own accumulated power should be more than enough to accomplish this task.

If Toril was to be kept safe, Laraedina had to die.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _If you are having difficulty imagining what Ssaliira's weapons look like, here are some other females who use what I have in mind. Talim_, _from _Soulcalibur 3. _Rayne, _Bloodrayne. _Lucia, _Devil May Cry 2.

Dante: _Stop listing already! I think they get the damn picture._

Queen: _Damn, you're surly today. Didn't like the pizza I gave you this morning or something?  
_

Dante: _That was bribery, so I wouldn't tease Vergil about being sick. You know I don't like it when I can't rub his nose in things like this._

Queen: _Of course it was a bribe. He's had a relapse, and you don't need to be in there bothering him while he's sick. _(shoves chair back)_ Speaking of which, I have to go check on him and empty the bucket, put in a new bag for him. Leave the computer _alone.

Dante: _Fine, Queen. Sure._

(Queen leaves room. Dante waits a minute, then slips into the vacated computer chair)

Dante: _Queen normally does this, but she's busy right now so I'll do it this time. Leave a review, unless you want to see me dress up like a female stripper in Queen's lingerie and dance on that water pipe over there _(turns monitor to face a black pipe running from the ceiling to the floor in the corner)_ Trust me, you don't want to see that. It would totally ruin my street image, and I do _not_ look good in a bra or a thong._

Queen: _Dante! I told you to leave the computer alone!_

(appears in doorway, carrying plastic bag of unidentifiable _something_. Dante shoves back chair, gets up)

Dante: _Queen, what are you planning on doing with that? _(she comes closer, examines what Dante has typed in)_ Queen?_

Queen (growling): _Run._

(Dante races out door, followed by Queen with the bag. Transmission continues for a while, then flicks off automatically)


	16. The Dance

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: High T

The Dance

They met in a resounding crash of metal striking metal, of magic warring with magic. Dante fought against Ssaliira, Vergil exchanged lightning-quick blows with Tlane, and the two elves battled almost faster than the eye could see.

In the light of the stars overhead, it almost seemed to be a dance. Bodies moved gracefully, swinging shafts of silver at each other with lethal accuracy, so fast that ribbons of light were left in their wake. Streaks of red, white, green, gold, blue, and black met and parted, gathered and separated, an endless ballet of silvered steel and tears of blood.

But he dance could not continue forever. Sooner or later, the curtain had to fall.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Dante was more than able to keep up with Ssaliira, despite her superior speed. She was a fast, acrobatic fighter who was fond of tying up Rebellion with her swords before kicking out at him, aiming for tender, vulnerable areas that would assuredly break his rhythm if she connected. It was difficult to get in his attacks, but not impossible.

He sliced at her quickly and knew he needed a different weapon. One sword just wasn't enough.

A devastating kick to the demoness' midsection sent her flying back to slam against a stone pillar, the force of the hit shattering the rock and knocking the wind out of her. Taking advantage of the respite, Dante yelled at Natasha.

"Natasha! Bag!"

The elf-woman nodded, not the least bit distracted, and caught Laraedina's descending sword between her crossed blades. She released the sword a second later, the strength her opponent was putting into the clench driving the sword downward. Foebane and Answerer caught the upper edge and forced the sword to the ground, turning it in its wielder's hands so that the flat of the blade faced the stars above. Before Laraedina could react, Natasha had run up the blade and kicked off the younger female's shoulders, launching herself into the air. Impossibly quick, she sheathed Foebane and pulled the tie that held the bag of holding onto her belt, throwing it to Dante before landing catlike on the polished marble floor, swords raised to receive Laraedina's next furious attack.

Dante caught the bag and tore it open, evading Ssaliira's swishing blades with a timely roll. Sheathing Rebellion across his back, he stuck one hand into the bag and called for Agni and Rudra.

He pushed the bag into a handy pocket and stabbed the blades into the ground, a crawling line of fire ripping across the floor to meet Ssaliira's charge. She cried out as the fire burned into her mostly-exposed skin. The screech made the hairs on the back of Dante's neck stand up, and he shook his head to regain his hearing.

"Should have worn more clothing, bitch!" Dante taunted, charging towards her in pure trickster style, faster than the human eye could see. "Black chain links and meat hooks? Surely you can do better than that."

"It suits me perfectly, son of Sparda." The demoness whipped her blades at the devil hunter's chest, stopping him dead in his tracks and scoring a tiny red **X** across his sternum. "Your coat is as inefficient for combat purposes as my chains."

Despite the blood dripping across his muscles, Dante smirked. "Then let's see who's outfit is the better, shall we?"

Ssaliira readied her blades, offered her own dazzling smile. "Let us dance. Before we are finished, Sin and Blessing shall drink deeply of your blood, half-breed."

"'Sin and Blessing?' Isn't that a bit redundant?"

"It's a Sin to live and not give me pleasure, and it is my Blessing to kill those who commit that sin." She twirled in place, her long blue hair swirling about her perfect, scantily-clad body, her blades raised high above her head. She stopped after two revolutions, and gave Dante a 'come hither' gesture. "Come, and allow me to bless you, to absolve you of your sin."

Dante assumed a cocky pose, Rudra resting atop one shoulder and his grin wide upon his face. "And if I do not want your blessing?"

Ssaliira launched herself into the air, her blade pointing straight at the devil-hunter's heart, looking for all the world like some kind of avenging angel. "You shall get it anyway!"

Dante spun to the side and kick-flipped backwards out of the way. "I'd like to see you try."

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Vergil had his hands full with Tlane. The demon had greater reach than he, and possessed the know-how to use it well. Time and again he darted in to make an attack, only to stop short before that nasty spear impaled him.

He growled between clenched teeth. He was a superb fighter, but even he had his limits.

This had to end.

"What's wrong, little man?" Tlane taunted, spinning his spear before him like a helicopter blade. The whirling shaft of steel went up and behind him, and he fell into a crouch, an expression of playful evil on his handsome countenance. Vergil didn't take that opening, however; it was far too obvious. A trap.

"I think perhaps it is that I am distracted by the size of your package," Vergil snarled, gesturing at the bulge against the demon's tunic. "This excites you, does it not?"

"Of course it does. Battle is my meat, pain the sweetest of all wines." The black-skinned demon lazily thrust his spear at Vergil, who promptly twisted aside. "Come, allow me to feast upon you, the eldest son of Sparda."

He charged, and Vergil countercharged, Yamato crashing down upon the spear's shaft so hard it nearly bounced out of its owner's grip. They eyeballed each other over their trembling weapons, grunting from the exertion of holding the clench.

"I think…I shall have…to decline!" Vergil gritted out, calling to something in the back of his mind. A moment later, he released the clench and fell backwards, the spear just missing catching him beneath the chin.

But in the fall, he kicked his foot out, connecting several hundred pounds of force with Tlane's groin.

With his foot firmly encased in one of the Beowulf greaves.

Tlane's eyes crossed, and he let out a screech that would have broken several hundred miles' worth of glass windows. Now Vergil was on the offensive, and he sliced at the shrimp-curled demon mercilessly, drawing blood with every stroke.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Across the hall, Dante was likewise on the attack. He had managed to disable Ssaliira's left arm with a well-placed slice, and it hung like a deadweight at her side, useful until it healed only as a kind of bludgeon. It was seriously impeding her attacks, and she could only parry one sword at a time, not both of them.

It was only a matter of time before she fell.

Agni sliced across her belly, spilling intestines and other assorted innards across the floor. Her blood hissed like acid where it touched the marble, and Dante leapt back from the mess, not wanting to get any of that stuff on his boots.

Her long fingers holding her guts up from the floor, attempting to stuff them back inside her, Ssaliira wailed, a high keen that hurt everyone's ears.

All save one, that is.

"Sister!" Tlane staggered up from the floor, his blood slickly shining on his flesh, and beat his black angel wings, lifting himself from the floor. Vergil screamed a warning to his distracted twin, but it was too late. Tlane had already rocketed across the room and speared Dante in the chest, pinning him to the floor.

Vergil was already in devil form, a blue meteor racing across the room to avenge his brother. But Tlane paid him no heed. He gathered his sister up in his arms and, with a final glare at Laraedina, lifted into the air. "Our bargain is broken, Laraedina! You shall be defeated, and thus have not held up your end! Ssaliira and I shall return to Hell, where we can heal and recover our strength. And then, we shall hunt down these two. Greater will their torment be if for some reason my sister does not make it!"

"No!" Laraedina screamed. A spell came to her lips, and she hurled a ray of blackest midnight at the fleeing demons. Tlane managed to dodge it, and when it hit one of the distant stars the silvery orb exploded, a supernova that lit up the heavens as if it were day. "Cowards! I shall slay them, and then I will come after you! You will regret having ever run from me!"

This respite gave Natasha some breathing room. Instead of taking advantage of Laraedina's distraction to finish her off, however, she raced across the room to where Dante lay, tearing open her potion bag to find her most potent healing potions. The words of the netherspirits about 'death on black wings' was absolutely clear to her in that terrible moment.

"Hold her off while I tend to him," she told Vergil, who was still in the throes of his devil trigger. "These potions are his only chance."

"With pleasure." Yamato already shredding the air, he raced to engage the demi-goddess, hoping to buy Natasha the time she needed to save Dante's life.

Natasha uncorked the first healing potion and lifted Dante's head, cradled it in her hand. There was no way he could swallow the potion like this; he wouldn't be able to handle the bottle. But there was still a way to get the potion into him, a technique she hadn't had reason to use in a long, long time.

She took a drink of the bottle herself, careful not to swallow, and pressed her lips to his open mouth, letting the healing potion drain down his throat in the midst of the kiss. She repeated this again and again, until two whole bottles were gone and he opened his eyes. She could see the confusion in the azure depths as he tried to fathom exactly why his twin's woman was kissing him, but she had no time to address it. The spear had to come out. "Brace yourself. This is going to hurt," she advised him, standing up and taking the spear in both hands.

He nodded, and clenched his fists tightly, his lips set in a thin line. She set one foot on his chest to hold him down, and quickly yanked the spear out of him in a fountain of blood. No sound escaped his lips, but she noticed that his teeth were biting on his lower lip so hard that they were drawing blood. The wound was garish indeed; fast regenerator or not, he would need some help with this one.

Casting the spear away, Natasha uncorked another potion. "Do you need my help for this one, or can you handle it yourself?" she asked, glancing back to see how Vergil was holding up. He was defending himself with the ease of a true master, but hadn't been able to land that many hits.

Dante reached up for the bottle. "I can do it myself. Don't want to have to explain to Vergil why his girlfriend is kissing his brother, after all."

Natasha blushed, and stood up. "Take as many of those as you need. I'm going to help him."

Foebane and Answerer sang out as she drew them from their sheaths. Cold fury danced with crimson flame in the depths of her pupils as she charged across the room.

The taint was rising.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Now think for a moment. Did you actually think that I would let Dante die? Sorry, but that's one thing I refuse to oblige with. In my fics, at least, he and Vergil will remain very much _alive_, thank you very much. _

Dante: _Now that's real nice of you, Queen. Although I will admit, getting stabbed through the chest is no fun either. _

Vergil: _But you will survive, brother. She isn't going to be killing either of us anytime soon. _

Queen: _Update on the Vergil situation. As is obvious, he is getting better. However, it will be a while before any holy water comes anywhere near him. None of us want to go through this again anytime soon. _

Vergil: _I'll drink to that _(raises glass of water, takes long drink)

Dante: _Need to get yourself something stronger than that, bro. _

Queen: _No vodka, Dante. You know what that does to him. _

(Dante pouts. Queen gets up and pets him like he's some kind of puppy)

Queen: _Aww, you're so cute when you pout._

Dante (smoothing down his silver mop): _Leave my hair alone, brat. And I'm not cute. _

Vergil: _Actually…_

(Rebellion is suddenly an inch away from his nose)

Dante: _Don't. Even. Say. It. _

Queen: _Boys, stop it. Otherwise you won't have to worry about looking cool ever again._

Vergil: _What do you mean?_

(Queen makes a snipping motion with her fingers)

Dante: _No scissors!_

Vergil: _You try it and you'll be kissing your own luscious locks good-bye, Queen. _

Queen: _Won't be an issue if you leave each other alone. _

(Dante gives Vergil a sidelong glance)

Vergil: _You might want to get those scissors, Queen. I think I'll be needing them later tonight._

(transmission cut off)


	17. The Beast Within

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: High T

The Beast Within

Controlling the taint had never been a simple thing. It took enormous reserves of inner strength, a will of strongest iron, to keep the beast in check, to maintain control over a part of her being that would have taken over her body and gone on a rampage of blood and destruction, tearing to pieces anything that crossed its path.

And it would occur, if she lost control for even a second. Bhaal, in the guise of the Slayer during the Time of Troubles, had laid waste to several villages and military strongholds before Cyric slew him. Natasha herself knew the terrible pleasure of allowing the animal to take control, to kill everything around her that drew breath. She knew what it was like to fight with nothing more than teeth, claws, and a whip-like tail. She knew how it felt when hot blood sprayed across her body in the wake of rending claws, the pleasure the beast gained from feeding upon its victims. She knew so much, and she feared that knowledge, using the Slayer only when there was no other option. Those times when wanton destruction, total bloody carnage, was exactly what the current situation called for. Those were the only times when she dropped the bonds and allowed the Slayer to kill as it would.

But even then, she had kept a sort of leash on herself. Her companions would see the destruction her inner beast could wreak, but they themselves would not be harmed. Natasha had no desire to see the terror in a friend's eyes ever again when she reverted back to her normal appearance. Once was more than enough.

Her control back then had been immaculate, but it had been so long since she had dealt with this on a daily basis. She was rusty, and both she and the taint knew it.

She had to get Vergil away from her; she couldn't hold back the Slayer too much longer. The rage and fear over what had just happened to Dante, the hatred and regret for Laraedina, were building up inside her, feeding the taint exactly what it needed to come forth and consume her body for a brief amount of time. She had to get Dante's twin out of the line of fire, where the Slayer could not see him.

Where she would not attack them.

She stalked up to the raging duel, parrying an overhead cut from Night's Kiss before Vergil could react. "Get back to Dante," she growled, her voice deeper than anything he had heard before. "Don't make any noise. I don't want to hurt you."

He was about to refuse when he saw the fires in her eyes, felt the energy building around her slender form. It was almost like the signs that preceded the devil when he or Dante triggered. He knew then what she had in mind, to command him like this.

The Slayer was about to come forth.

And she wasn't sure that she could control it.

"Sure Natasha. Good luck!" Utilizing his teleportative abilities, Vergil blurred across the room to where his brother lay. Taking care not to jar the wound too much, he dragged him behind a pillar, where they would have partial cover from the gaze of the beast.

Listening to the sounds of the Bhaalspawn and the demi-goddess battling behind them, they had to wonder if this was the last time they would ever see the elf-woman they had come to know as a friend.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Natasha fought hard and fast with Laraedina, the blades flying faster than anything a mere mortal could accomplish, striking against the fast-fading stoneskins hard enough to draw a growl from the one suffering the hit. It was terrible and strangely beautiful, this duel; a matriarch against her own descendent, their identical eyes watching each other with deadly intent. Hair of midnight onyx and purest gold flying like banners of ancient glory as their owners came together in a tangle of silvery blades, of flying feet and small magics that required little or no incantations to cast.

Natasha felt the beast rising, and knew that she couldn't hold it back much longer.

Her emerald-and-gold eyes flashed red, and a bestial snarl escaped her lips, reverberating through the air with the effectiveness of a screaming battle-cry as the last of her control was thrown aside.

It was over in a second's swirl of flying brimstone, of red-hot coals and smoke. Where once had stood an elf-woman, now there was a horrific monster known only in the books of historians. The Slayer walked amongst mortals once more.

And its fiery gaze was fixed directly on Laraedina.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

When those eyes of crimson flame settled on her, Laraedina knew a twinge of fear. For the first time in this whole endeavor, she was afraid. She had heard stories, read historical accounts, of what the Slayer and its bigger counterpart, the Ravager, were capable of.

Despite all the horrific deeds she had done in her life, she was terrified of this beast.

She had only a moment to lock gazes with it, and then it was upon her, claws outstretched to rip away the façade of flesh, jaws gaping to engulf her head between its teeth. Laraedina was purely defensive then, parrying the four reaching arms and ducking away from the dagger-like, serrated fangs. The beast was fast, very fast, and it used this serpentine quickness to its advantage, twisting its awkward body like a cobra to strike at her where it would, the tail lashing at her with enough force to shatter her bones into powder. Almost faster than she had believed possible, Laraedina felt her defenses being shattered, her arcane spells falling to the might of this creature, this monster that was her great-grandmother.

_NO!!!_ her mind screamed. A snarl tore its way out of her throat, and she plunged deeply into the core of the essences within her, searching for a way to defeat this impudent avatar of a long-dead god.

She found it.

Her flesh bulged and tore, blood spraying in sudden gouts to spill across the pristine marble in a crimson wash. A beast was rising inside her as well, and this one was bigger than anything Dante or Vergil, watching from behind their pillar, had ever dreamed possible.

Growing, twisting out of the ruin that was Laraedina's flesh was a beast that resembled the Slayer, but remained a separate entity. This monster was pure blood-red, the size of a skyscraper, and its eyes glowed with sickly yellow flame in place of crimson fury. It was so huge, so intimidating, that it made the Slayer seem as if it were a mere insect.

This was the Ravager, the highest avatar of Bhaal. A form that had drawn so much blood, taken so many lives, that the Overfather himself had decreed that Bhaal was forbidden to use it again.

Knowing this, most warriors would simply have given up, laid down their weapons and prayed to whatever gods they worshipped that their death would be quick and painless. It was useless to fight against the Ravager, for there was nothing that could stand in its way.

But the Slayer, it seemed, was not ready to give up.

With a roar that would have scared Mundus himself, the Slayer crouched low to the ground and launched itself into the air, its backward knees enabling it to jump like a flea. Grabbing a handhold with two of its four arms, the black-and-red avatar began climbing up the crimson carapace of its larger self, its claws cracking into the insect-like armor and digging into the soft flesh beneath with every hand-hold.

Roaring in pain at the annoying pinpricks, the Ravager reached a hand up and took hold of the Slayer, ignoring the chunks of bloody flesh that were ripped off along with it. Holding it between two hands, it began to squeeze, tearing a protesting scream from its helpless victim.

Even if she had told him to stay back, Vergil couldn't stop himself when he heard that cry. Monster or not, that was still Natasha. His woman. Still sheltered behind the pillar with his brother, he called for his own energy and threw his hand out at the Ravager four times, praying that he was in range for this to be effective.

It worked. The purplish balls of cutting energy sliced into the Ravager's hands, causing them to open and drop the Slayer to roar in agony. The Slayer fell to the floor, landing with the same grace Natasha had displayed previously, and raced behind its pained opponent. Quicker than it had before, the small avatar began climbing once more, this time using the spines sticking out from the red carapace to make better time.

The Ravager knew what it was doing, and reached its hands back to try and grasp the irritating beast. But the Slayer had chosen its path well; it was just out of reach of the Ravager's clawed fingertips.

To the half-demons, it seemed rather amusing, this gigantanormous monster whirling like a child to get at the irritation climbing up its back, but they knew that this was deadly serious. If the Ravager got hold of it again, the Slayer, and the elf-woman inside it, was doomed.

The Slayer clung to its handholds grimly, refusing to let go again. But as it got higher up the monster's spine, the Ravager's arms kept getting closer and closer. Sooner or later, it would be able to grab the mottled red-and-black nuisance, and then Natasha would be lost to them.

A distraction was needed.

"Can you fight, brother?" Vergil asked, watching the battle with fiery eyes.

Dante slowly got to his feet, his jaws tightly clenched against the residual pain in his mostly-healed chest. "Still hurts, but yeah. I can fight."

"Shall we?"

"Let's."

Energy flashed, and suddenly there were two devils attacking the Ravager, hacking deeply into its ankles and three-toed feet. The monster turned its attention to the red and blue irritants, completely forgetting about the Slayer crawling up its back, and began trying to stomp and crush them, attempting to kill them.

The Slayer took advantage of this distraction, climbing up the back of the Ravager to get to the head. For a brief moment, sanity prevailed in its chaotic mind and it cast a spell, a dweomer that made its feet and palms sticky, enabling it to cling to the slick carapace like an oversized spider.

Then the instinct took over once more, and it began clawing at the armor, murderously devoted to breaking through before the taint lost its steam and Natasha took control once more.

Cracks appeared. The Slayer snarled, sensing victory's approach, and continued its toil, chipping away at the crimson shell to get at the soft flesh hidden beneath it.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Dante flew away from the floor before an oversized foot squashed him flat, zipping high into the air to hack at the Ravager's side with Rebellion, having put Agni and Rudra back in the bag. Vergil was doing the same on the other side, Yamato's razored edge cutting through the hardened armor with almost laughable ease. Blood as black as the sky above was now washing down the Ravager's body, pooling on the floor at its feet.

It would fall soon. It _had_ to. Nothing could survive this much blood-loss. Not even a goddess.

Feeling their triggers failing, the twins landed and sped back to a safer distance from the flailing, pain-crazed colossus.

"Now, Natasha!" Vergil yelled up to the Slayer.

"Kill her!" Dante shouted.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

High above, still perched precariously on the Ravager's head, the Slayer paused briefly. It heard the calls, heard the name.

_Natasha…_

The madness faded, and the Slayer vanished in the same swirl of smoke and burning stone that had heralded its appearance, leaving Natasha clinging to the head of the Ravager.

She saw the bloody gouges, the gaping hole in the beast's armor, and didn't hesitate.

The Ravager had been unleashed.

She knew in her heart that Laraedina was beyond saving.

Foebane and Answerer sang out. Taking them in a reverse grip, she raised them high…

And plunged them hilt-deep into the Ravager's brain.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Death scene next! I love writing these!_

Vergil: _You are a very disturbing person sometimes, Queen._

Queen: _Vergil, think about what you just said. Coming from you, that's just plain funny._

Dante: _She pegged you good on that one, bro._

(Yamato makes another appearance. Dante looks at the katana lodged just beneath his right collarbone)

Dante: _You always did have lousy aim, bro._

Queen (getting up to grab Vergil to stop him from throttling Dante): _Stop it, guys! You're getting blood all over the couch!_

Vergil: _Never did like that couch much anyway. Too flowery for my tastes._

Queen: _Mine too, but we can't afford a new sofa right now, remember? Any money you guys get from jobs for the next few months goes straight into fixing the dining room. _

Dante: _I don't see what I did to get included in that. After all, _he's_ the one who lost it in there._

Queen: _It takes two to tango, Dante. Yamato wasn't the only thing slicing the walls apart in there. Speaking of which…_

(goes to Dante, yanks Yamato out of his chest. Considers it thoughtfully)

Queen: _Hmm…Nah. I don't have a death wish. _

(gives it back to Vergil)

Dante: _What exactly were you planning?_

Queen (reaching out to end transmission): _On locking it up with Rebellion in the closet. _

Dante: _So _that's_ where you hid my sword! Now what about Ebony and Ivory?_

Queen: _You'll get those back when you need them. However, until the dining room is paid for, they will stay in their hiding place. _

(phone rings. Vergil answers. Listens for a while, takes down notes on pad of paper. Hangs up phone)

Dante: _We got game?_

Vergil: _We got game. Couple of Sin Scissors running loose in a parking garage. Possibly a few Enigmas, too. _

Dante: _Queen, can I have my weapons back now?_

Queen: _Rebellion, yes, but you're stuck using that shotgun of yours until that dining room is paid for. _

Dante (dangerous look in his eyes, getting slowly up from couch): _Now wait just one fucking minute…_

Vergil: _Just be happy she's letting you have Rebellion, brother. She could make you go out with no weapons at all._

Queen: _True dat. True dat. Now, lemme get Rebellion for you, you get the shotgun, and you guys go kick demonic butt, okay?_

Dante (huffs): _Fine, Queen. Fine. _(gives monitor, and thus the readers, the evil eye) _Now end the damn transmission already._

Queen: _If you insist…_

(transmission ended)


	18. Death of the Beast

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**:

Death of the Beast

The Ravager screamed, a noise so loud, so unearthly, that all three of its opponents had to put their hands over their ears to block out the horrific sound. With the wordless protest still ringing throughout the heavens, the beast collapsed, and fell flat on its gruesome face. Natasha was flung off by the fall and went sliding across the marble, almost straight into the crater left by Laraedina's earlier attack. Her head throbbing, she managed to lift her head and look at the Ravager, noting idly that Vergil was running to her position.

He knelt beside her and propped her up against his leg, a healing potion ready in his hand. She took it gratefully, offering him a thankful smile, and drank it down, sighing with relief as the wounds she had sustained in the battle, the headache she had gotten from slamming into the floor, vanished with a slight tingling sensation.

Dante was approaching the motionless Ravager, Rebellion ready in his hand in case it moved again. But as he got closer, he saw that the skin was splitting down the back, almost as if the crimson monster was molting. Taking a precautionary step back, he waved to his twin and the elf-woman.

"Natasha, you might want to take a look at this!"

"Can you get up?" Vergil asked softly, brushing some hair away from her eyes.

"I think so, but I'd appreciate the help."

He scooped her up in his arms and stood, holding her close to his chest. She looped her arms about his neck, smiling. "I didn't need that much help, but thanks anyway."

"It's no trouble." He gave her a heated look, walking towards his brother and the gigantic carcass. "I just have a feeling that I won't be able to do this again."

She had no time to question him about something she already suspected, for they were soon beside Dante, and Vergil set her back on her feet, steadying her with one arm. The younger twin decided not to comment on the interaction between his brother and the elf-woman; the last thing he wanted right now was to get stabbed again. "What do you make of this?" he asked, waving a hand at the splitting carapace.

Natasha carefully walked around to the Ravager's head, and yanked Foebane and Answerer out of the oozing brains. Cleaning them off with a quick flick of her wrist, splattering the gore across the beast's head, she slid them in their respective sheaths and went to examine the crack in the armor.

Her eyes widened.

Laraedina lay within, covered with the Ravager's black blood but recognizable all the same.

She immediately went to her, levitating her out of the split skin with a quick spell to lay her out on a section of floor that wasn't covered with blood or cracked by the blows of a sword. Kneeling beside her, Natasha tore off a piece of her tunic to clean off the younger female's face.

At this gentle touch, Laraedina's eyes fluttered open. They immediately came to rest upon her caretaker, and narrowed in fury, absolute hatred.

"_You_." The word hissed from her lips like the foulest of curses, the most evil of words. "You have ruined _everything_!"

"No, Laraedina, you are wrong. I have saved everything, including you." Natasha's voice was full of regret, filled with sorrow. Her touch upon the younger female's gore-soaked hair was unbelievably gentle, a mother's touch. "It would never have come to this, had you just listened to me before."

"Everything I have ever worked for, all that I have accomplished was for the essences, for the power they could give me." Dante and Vergil crouched around the prone female, silent as they listened to her whispered words. "And you have taken that away from me. You have condemned me to an eternity in the Abyss, _elder_."

The elven term of respect made Natasha flinch. She was technically Laraedina's elder, her great-grandmother, but that term was only used for those not related to the speaker. Had Laraedina wanted to address her as a clan member, a family member, she would have called her 'grandmother.'

"I'm so sorry, _lei'a'zria_," she replied, using the elvish word for 'little one.' Her fingertips still stroked gently across her descendant's bloody features, softly caressed her hair. "But by your selfishness, you would have condemned all of Toril to a new sort of hell. For the sake of everyone and everything that calls Faerun, Kara-tur, Zakhara, or Maztica home, I had to stop you. No matter what it cost me in the end."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Laraedina sneered. "Weakling. I never, ever cried."

"Because it takes a heart to cry, to feel. And you never allowed your heart any say in your actions." Natasha closed her eyes, anguish rising from her own heart. "I saw what you might have been, Laraedina. During my test on the stairs, I spoke with you. You were garbed in silken robes of purest white, and your eyes were clear of madness. You were a priestess of Hanali Celanil, the elven goddess of love and beauty, a champion for all that was pure and good in our world." She looked down at her stunned descendant, tears flowing freely now. "She was what you would have become, if you had escaped from Mir rather than living beneath your mother's tyranny and madness. There was a branch of the Cult of Love settled near the forest; they would have taken you in and raised you to become that priestess, that favored champion. You would have wielded great power in the name of love and goodness, _lei'a'zria_, and become a demi-goddess upon your ascension into Arvandor at the end of your life. There was no need for you to have gone after the essence of Bhaal; this was not supposed to be your destiny."

Laraedina was silent, her eyes so full of hate that Natasha's heart wept. "I don't believe you. Power is taken, but given. What would Hanali have seen in me anyway? Her dogma teaches that we are to love our opponents, and find beauty in everything." She made a spitting sound in the back of her throat. "Love is a sham, something that only makes us weak. Beauty exists only as a mask, hiding the creatures within. It is all a lie, an illusion.

"But I saw through the illusion. I took what I wanted, fought for every ounce of power I gained, sacrificed so many lives that I could bargain with the demon lords and arch-devils of the lower planes." Her lips curled into an evil smile. "And I became feared by all who heard my name. Even the mighty Elminister dared not face me, for he knew I would utterly destroy him!" She laughed, but the vile sound was choked off by a sudden coughing attack.

Pity was in Natasha's gaze. "Elminister didn't face you because he believed that you could still be saved. That was my original goal as well; to redeem rather than kill." Silvery tears fell on Laraedina's face, washed clean trails through the midnight fluids covering her. "But you rejected redemption, preferring to exist only in darkness. You gave me no choice, Laraedina; I had to stop you."

Laraedina laughed again, her hands convulsing on the floor. "Then you must slay me, elder, for as long as I live, I will continue to try and become the Lady of Murder. And next time, your victory will not come so easily. Tlaneskiar and Ssaliinthra are not the only ones I can go to for aid; with the essences of Bhaal still inside me, I can command Demigorgon, the Prince of Demons himself!"

Dante and Vergil looked at each other sadly. This sounded so familiar, so much like what they had gone through two years ago in the tower…

But it wasn't the same. Vergil had come to see Dante's reasoning, understood that he had been going about his quest for power all wrong. Now he gained power much as Dante did, through demon-hunting and the gradual awakening of his own innate abilities. Laraedina had been driven crazy by her desire for power; she would never come to see reason. There was no redemption possible for this poor, misguided female any longer.

All Natasha could do was to put her out of her misery.

Crying in earnest now, the elf-woman reached back over her shoulder to pull Cutthroat from its sheath, the short sword catching the light of the stars as it slid out of the leather containing it. Laraedina's eyes fixed on the silver blade, as if hypnotized.

"Can you really bring yourself to do this, elder?" Her voice was soft now, as if she couldn't believe that Natasha was actually going to do this. "Can you really kill me, the daughter of your own grandson? Your own flesh and blood?"

Natasha closed her eyes, still weeping. "No matter what the cost, Laraedina, _lei'a'zria._ No matter what the cost."

She raised the blade.

"Hold your blade, godchild. The time is not ripe to kill her just yet."

All four of them looked to the broken seals, where the solar stood with wings outstretched. "Why not?" Dante asked.

"She yet retains the remainder of the essences, and upon her death they will rejoin the rest of the collective whole. They will permeate your soul, godchild, and you will become the Lady of Murder by default."

"No…" The words were spoken by both Dante and Natasha. Vergil said nothing.

"Once again, the choice remains before you. Either accept the burden of your father's power and ascend to his vacated position as the goddess of murder and assassins, or give up your portion of the essences for the gods to hide away once more, this time under far, far more seals and safeguards." The solar gazed upon the elf-woman with benevolent eyes. "What is your decision?"

"My decision now is the same as it was back then, solar. I do not want this taint, this unholy power. I would relinquish it into the care of the gods once more, that no mortal will ever be tempted or touched by it again."

Laraedina spat at her ancestress, the saliva hitting Natasha's cheek just below her eye. "Weakling. Cowardly fool. How can you turn this opportunity down once more, when you have a second chance at godhood? You are such a simpleminded fool."

"On the contrary, descendant. Natasha has made a selfless decision, stemmed from her desire to protect those weaker than herself. It is for the greater good that she gives the essences into our care, and it is a far better choice than becoming the Lady of Murder." The solar waved a hand at them, and the essences were called from their bodies. Natasha threw her head back, muscles straining as the taint was torn from the threads of her soul with pain she had only experienced once in her lifetime. When the green fires emerged from her body once more, she went limp, moaning softly with relief.

Laraedina, however, was not so lucky. She screamed loudly, eyes wide with sudden agony, as her back arched high off the ground and her hands clawed at the frictionless marble. Higher and higher went the curve of her body, until only the top of her head and the soles of her feet where connected with the mountain, and her cries went on and on, until even Dante was considering killing her just to stop the cacophony. But at last, she fell back to the ground and lay boneless, her body twitching softly.

The solar held the essences within her hand, and directed them back into their original container. The seals rebuilt themselves, the crystal remade itself, and the circle of power lit up once more. More seals grew from the smooth floor, each with a different rune carved within the stone, until the essences were ringed by a solid wall of glowing stone.

"The task is done. The essences are sealed, and no one shall ever touch them again."

"No!" Laraedina reached a trembling hand for Night's Kiss, pure rage and deepest madness mingling in her wild eyes. "I shall become the Lady of Murder! I will heal my wounds and I shall return to this place! I will not stop until I have ascended to godhood!"

The solar looked at Natasha. Dante and Vergil turned their cerulean gazes to her.

Her eyes were still closed, her head slumped forward, but they saw her fingers curl tightly about Cutthroat's hilt.

Laraedina pulled her vampiric sword towards herself, intending to kill all four of them if it meant she could leave this place alive. Only one scratch, and her wounds would heal…

Cutthroat plunged into her chest, unerringly finding its way into her heart.

Gold-and-green eyes met their twin, and saw the sorrow, the resolve, shining therein. Once more, tears dripped from the elf-woman's lashes, falling upon her dying descendant like a gentle rain.

That image was all Laraedina could hold onto as Death took her, carried her soul away to the throne of Kelemvor, the Judge of the Dead.

In death, she finally found peace.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _Wow, that was intense. You have no idea how long it took me to come up with all this, to get the meanings across. This story isn't finished yet, even though Laraedina has departed for the afterlife._

Dante: _Don't you mean 'afterhell?'_

Queen: _Yeah, I suppose I do. She's got a lot to answer for, when she meets with Kelemvor._

Vergil: _I do not feel sorry for her. She was a worthy opponent, greatly skilled with a blade, but nothing more than that. Even I had more of a heart in Devil May Cry 3 than she did in this fic._

Dante: _Funny, you didn't seem to have much of a heart when you were stabbing me through the chest._

Vergil: _You know I wasn't overly fond of that part of the script, brother. Capcom insisted, or I would not have done such a thing. _

Queen (smirking): _I seem to recall that you negociated for a rather large sum of money before you did that scene willingly…_

Vergil: _Damn right I did. I may want to kill Dante sometimes, but I wouldn't actually give him a wound he couldn't heal. If he dies, it won't be at my hands._

Dante: _Awww, I didn't know you cared! _

Queen: _What did you do with that raise, anyway? _

(Vergil suddenly looks sheepish)

Dante: _Wait a minute. He spent an entire two nights at Love Planet after we got paid for Devil May Cry 3. _

Queen (staring open-mouthed at Vergil): _You didn't. Tell me you didn't. _

Vergil (staring at the floor): _Umm…_

Queen: _Oh my god, you DID! You spent all that money on STRIPPERS??? Vergil, I thought you wanted nothing to do with that sort of thing!_

Vergil: _Well, you were already dating Dante by then, or I would have spent it all on you!_

Dante: _Hey now, don't make moon-eyes at my girlfriend! _

Queen: _Vergil, we have got to get you a girl. Period, end of story._

Vergil (reaching out to end transmission): _Can we please continue this conversation without an audience? I have a reputation to keep, after all._

Queen: _Fine, fine. End the transmission. _

(transmission ended)


	19. One More Night

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: T

One More Night

"The threat of Bhaal's essences is forever ended, godchild. Now all that remains is to erase these events from Fate, and restore these two to their proper world."

Natasha, still reeling from what she had just done, looked up at the solar with slow horror. "No… Don't do that to them, solar. I beg of you, do not!"

Dante looked confused, but Vergil had a pretty good idea of what the blue-skinned angel meant.

"You know that I must. Their world was never meant to connect with ours outside the realm of books and imaginations, of rolling dice and lives controlled on a moving-picture-box. These events must be erased from their memories."

"You mean we'll forget all about this? About her?" Dante asked, his fingers idly toying with his amulet.

"It will be in your minds as a dream. You will awaken from slumber, and think this to be only a musing of your sleep-fogged minds."

"Can we have just one last night, one last day together, solar? I would not wish their only dream-memories of the Realms to be full of death and darkness." Natasha's eyes were pleading, her gaze desperate. _Please give me this chance._

The solar considered, then closed its eyes and rocked its head back, as if it were listening to something within its own mind. "You will have twenty-four hours with them. At the end of that time, they will be transported back to their world, along with all your possessions, and all that has happened since they met you will be as a dream in their minds. You will not be so fortunate, godchild. Your memories will stay with you, as punishment for connecting two worlds that were never meant to be connected in this manner."

Her head bowed. "I understand. Thank you, and the gods, for your kindness, solar."

"I wish you well, godchild. Farewell."

There was a flash of light, and suddenly they were back on solid ground, their feet sinking softly into a patch of grass. The roar of the ocean against the cliffs filled their ears, and a stone lighthouse rose tall and forbidding in the distance.

"So we'll just think we dreamed about all this?" Vergil asked angrily, his handsome face as arrogant and full of rage as Dante had ever seen it.

Natasha didn't back down from that hellish gaze. She faced it with a proudly-raised head, her midnight hair blowing softly in the sea-breeze. "I don't like it either, Vergil, but it appears that we do not have much of a choice. When the gods collectively agree on something, you cannot fight it. I should know. I've tried." She held her hand out to Dante. "Can I have my bag back, Dante?"

"Sure, babe." He fished the bit of blue silk out of its pocket, and handed it over to its owner. She opened it, and reached inside.

"There was a custom my first adventuring party and I developed, for whenever one of us left the rest of the party and would not be rejoining in the foreseeable future. We exchanged weapons as a token of friendship and remembrance, that we would never truly be apart from each other." Natasha pulled out a blade that crackled with raw electricity, its curve deeper than that of most scimitars, more like a sickle, in fact. She also pulled out the Flail of Ages. "Dante, this is Usano's Blade, or, as I like to call it, Sparky. It is enchanted with a powerful electrical dweomer, and extremely useful for decapitations due to the curve of the blade. I found it in a tower known as Watcher's Keep, and have carried it ever since." She presented the blade to him, laying it flat on her palms as if it were the greatest of treasures. "I realize that you will not believe me real, but I ask that you take this blade anyway, as a reminder of my friendship."

He took the blade carefully, sliced it through the air a few times to get an accurate measurement of its abilities. Blue lightning crackled in its wake as he spun it around his body, setting his hair on end. "It'll wreak havoc with my hair, but thanks anyway. As for what you can keep…" He reached into the bag, and pulled out his old sawed-off shotgun. "I know you don't use guns, but I can show you how to care for this baby. I've modified it, so it never needs ammunition."

She took the gun reverentially, spun and aimed it at a nearby dead tree. A pull of the trigger and a shot rang out, blowing a hole straight through the trunk. Holding the gun upright, she flashed a smile at his open-mouthed, stunned expression. "I don't know much about maintenance, but I did watch you closely when first we met. Thank you, Dante. I'm sure this…what is it again?"

"Shotgun."

"I'm sure this shotgun will come in handy sooner or later." She put it inside the bag, and took the flail in both hands, presenting it to Vergil.

"No, Natasha. I can't take that. That belonged to your husband; give me something else."

"It's a useful weapon, Vergil. Besides, I can't use a flail very well, anyway. I kept it more for nostalgia's sake than anything else." She stretched her arms out a bit more, all but pressing the five-headed flail into his hands. "Take it. It's yours."

Although he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of taking a weapon that had once been used by her husband and first lover, Vergil took the weapon from her hands, put it through a few routines. It was much lighter than he had originally believed, perfectly balanced, but he had no doubt that it was capable of thoroughly smashing a demon's skull. "I have no weapons to give you in return, but…" He pulled off the glove on his right hand, gave it to her with a small grin. "I can give you this. I have other gloves."

She smiled softly, and tucked the glove into her belt. "It will suffice. I couldn't ask you to give up Yamato, after all."

"I never would have thought that you would dare ask." Vergil lifted his head as an ungodly howl echoed from the woods, and several red-skinned brutes with enormous blue noses and ugly, squashed faces emerged from the shadows, their leather armor encrusted with filth and their weapons spotted with rust. More followed, many more than otherwise would have been suspected.

"Hobgoblins." Natasha grinned, crimson sparkles dancing on her upraised fingertips. "Sizable warband. Looks like about fifty."

"Then this should be fun." Dante's smirk was evident as Ebony and Ivory twirled around his fingers, pointed straight at the leaders.

Vergil called for Beowulf, raised his fists and balanced himself on the balls of his feet. "Shall we keep score this time?" he fairly purred.

"As you wish."

Innumerable spheres of pink light launched themselves from Natasha's hand, drawing pained grunts from the humanoids, but dropping only a few of them. Dante's guns began mowing down the opposition, and Vergil launched explosive bolts from his gauntlets.

Then all three of them charged the doomed hobgoblins, wicked smiles on their faces.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

The day passed far too quickly for the friends. Slaughtering all the monsters they came across, seeing the landscape, hearing about each other's adventures, and getting drunk back in Beregost helped the hours pass before any of them noticed. Natasha finally relented, and hooked Dante up for the night with one of the barmaids in Feldepost's Inn, the daughter of an ex-barmaid who she knew as a friend. That same friend had had to leave her adventuring party when she became pregnant with that same daughter, twenty-three years ago. As she had earlier noted, being naturally gifted with extreme longevity had its downsides.

Once Dante was settled in for the night with several bottles of assorted liquors and Quor'rina, the barmaid in question, Natasha and Vergil retired to their own room for the night, well out of range of Dante's quarters.

Vergil wasn't the only screamer in the family, it seemed.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Standing out on the meager balcony afforded their suite (yes, Natasha had decided to splurge and gotten herself and Vergil, as well as Dante, the nicest rooms Feldepost's had to offer), the elf-woman gazed up at the stars with sorrowful eyes. They were leaving her with the rising sun, the dawn of the new day. Never would she forget them, but to them she would be just another nighttime fantasy, a wisp of fancy from their dreams that would vanish upon their arrival into the waking world.

She was used to getting short-changed in the way of rewards, but nothing her many employers over the years had cheated her from getting could possibly compare to this.

They were losing their memories, but she was losing her heart.

Their world was invisible to her gaze, she knew. But staring up at the crystalline pinpoints scattered across the sky, she had the strangest feeling that she could see their Earth. It was a comforting thought, and a cool balm to the pain in her heart.

They might not remember her, but she would always remember them.

Large, warm hands gently gripped her upper arms; she felt the intense heat of his body standing very close to her back. "It's a little cold out here tonight. Why don't you come inside?"

"If we wish to enjoy the time we have left, I suppose I shall have to." She turned to face him, laid a soft kiss on his lips. "We only have until sunrise, Vergil. No longer than that."

"I can sleep when I'm back on Earth." Walking backwards, he guided her to the large bed dominating the room. "If I have my way, we won't be wasting the hours until sunrise in sleep."

"I think your way agrees with my way." Settling down on the fur blankets, Natasha slipped the strap of her undershirt off her shoulder, gave the half-demon a seductive pout. "Let us waste no more time. The hours will pass quickly, after all."

Vergil's expensive blue coat was flung aside, crumpling in a nearby chair. "We agree on this, I see. Now, let's see if we can't make Dante hear your screams this night as well…"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _People, I'm soooo sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out! Thanksgiving break interfered with my muse for this story. I did manage to get another fic out, one that isn't quite finished yet. "Healing Hurt", under the M-rated fics. _

Dante: _More begging for reviews, I see._

Queen: _No, I'm offering the explanation of exactly why I failed to get the next chapter out in a timely fashion. I prefer not to let this much time go between my chapters in various fics. _

Vergil:_ We can attest to that. If she isn't playing video games, she's writing!_

Dante: _Such a naughty girl. She even writes when she knows she isn't supposed to. What do you think I caught her doing last night when I thought I had put her to sleep?_

Queen: _So I keep a journal in the nightstand! Big deal!_

Dante: _That was no journal, Queen. That contained notes for what you're planning on changing in the reposting of "Innocence Lamented, Innocence Lost."_

Vergil: _Sounds like an obsession to me…_

Queen: _Writing isn't an obsession, guys. If I'm addicted to anything, it's Devil May Cry 3. Playing that game bequeaths unto me an ecstatic high unequaled by anything known to man or nature!_

Dante: _That's only because you've never had a drink._

Vergil: _So claims he who weekly claims that he shall never, ever drink again. _

Dante: _At least I can hold my liquor! Anybody who's read that first book Tokoyopop had written about Devil May Cry knows that you have a certain problem with vodka._

Vergil: _That's just because I wasn't prepared for such vast amounts of alcohol. They crammed a funnel down my throat, after all. _

Dante: _It was one measly keg. I drink more than twice that amount without getting so much as tipsy. _

Queen (suddenly very still at the keyboard): _Dante, exactly how expensive is that much booze?_

Dante: _Runs up a pretty high tab. Why?_

Queen: _Is that what happened to the money you got for that last job? The money that was supposed to pay for the new dining room you and Vergil destroyed? You spent it all on BOOZE?!?!_

Dante (suddenly very uncomfortable): _Ummmm…_

Vergil: _I think you'd better start running, Dante. _

Queen: _I would agree. Not using Ebony and Ivory for a while is about to be the least of his problems. He's going to be bedridden for a MONTH!!!_

(Dante springs off couch, races down the hall and out the front door, Queen in hot pursuit. Once they've departed from the immediate vicinity, Vergil slides into the vacated computer chair)

Vergil: _I do not believe I shall intervene in this little affair. My younger sibling deserves some punishment for spending that much money at the Bulls Eye. When Queen decides that we have to hand over our money for damage we've caused around the house, she will do everything in her power to see that we do so. My share is paid for; all that remains now is for Dante to hand over his half of the cash. _

Queen (outside): _Get back here you lousy, rotten, good-for-nothing, lying, cheating, sonofa…_

Vergil: _I think I shall make myself scarce for a few hours. The next chapter of this fic should be up soon, readers. In the meantime, enjoy the entertainment._

(transmission ended)


	20. A Dream Or Was It?

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: M. Most definitely M.

A Dream… Or Was It?

Merging love throughout the night.

Heat and passion and sensations that sent a myriad of assorted cries winding through the still night air.

Limbs entwining, bodies pressed tight against each other. Lips meeting and parting like the tide against the shore, feasting at the others' mouth and gliding along trembling flesh. Fingers digging into smooth, sweat-slicked flesh, winding into hair of ink and snow, convulsing about the other's digits, and clutching at the silken sheets with sudden bursts of strength.

A woman's breathless scream. A man's hoarse shout.

Thus the night passed for Vergil and Natasha, for Dante and his barmaid. Well into the night, the people on either side of their suites failed to find any sleep for the noise emanating from the rooms in question, resulting in a surplus of business for the bar downstairs.

The lovers cared not for the pounding on the walls or the banging on their doors. All that mattered was each other, spending the little time they had left absorbed in the pleasure of themselves and their partner.

The nighttime requirements for silence of the people around them mattered not to them.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

As the night waned, Natasha lay beside her half-demon lover, their hands and fingers lightly tracing the other's body. Their eyes were locked together, their thoughts communicated through their gazes.

Love.

Desire.

Sorrow.

But no regrets.

As the sky lightened outside the window, they came together once more, desperate to display their love for each other one more time before they were forced to part forever.

Vergil broke the kiss, raising his upper body so he could move with greater force, better control. "You'll never forget me, Natasha. Never!"

"No! I won't forget! I can't!" She grabbed his shoulders, frantically ran her nails down his heaving sides. His rhythm was driving her insane with pleasure. "Never!"

"If this is to be a dream, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it in my memories. Everything!" He threw his head back, his eyes closed against the desperation in her gorgeous face. This was the most exquisite torture he had put either of them through in the time they had been together. He was so close…

"I never forget those I love, Vergil. I can never forget you!" She arched high against his body, screaming like a banshee, her cries twining with his triumphant groan just as the sun crested the horizon.

A moment later, Vergil was gone, and Natasha fell back on the mattress panting, completely alone. Not even bothering to look for him, knowing he and his brother were gone forever, she pulled the blankets off the floor and over her glistening body.

And she cried.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Vergil awoke sometime around noon, much later than he usually did. When he did open his eyes, he lay on his back, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as if searching for enlightenment therein.

_What a dream_.

He had a certain urgency, a need to record this extremely-detailed dream, but somehow he just didn't feel like moving at the moment. He felt like he had been in battle or something equally physically exerting, but he knew for a fact that he had not. The last thing he remembered was laying on the couch listening to Beethoven's 5th Symphony and reading _The Count of Monte Cristo_; he must have gone up to bed sometime after that. For the life of him, he couldn't remember anything after that.

Long minutes passed before he reached into the nightstand, pulled out a tape recorder with a fresh blank tape, and switched it on. He did this every time he remembered his dreams.

"Last night, I had a dream. Dante brought home a woman, and this woman, whom I shall describe in a moment, had a job for us…"

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Downstairs, Dante was busy straightening the weapons in their display cases. He remembered the dream in vivid detail, as well, but he thought it was a simple nighttime-fantasy, nothing more. The blank spot in his memory between fighting demons in the streets to waking up fairly exhausted in his own bed bothered him a little, but he figured that he had kicked demon ass and then gone and drank himself stupid at the Bulls Eye. Vergil must have come and dragged him home at some point last night.

But then he found something in the bottom of the cabinet that threw his mind into a spin of increduality.

A sickle-like sword with blue electricity dancing along the curving metal.

Carefully, afraid he was seeing things, he picked it up and held it before his disbelieving eyes. That woman from the dream, Natasha, had given him this. _Usano's Blade, _his mind whispered.

"Sparky." The name she had called it slipped from his lips unbidden. He placed the sword gently on his desk, then took a few steps away from it, staring all the while as if he expected it to explode at any second.

Had it only been a dream?

Or a memory true?

Vergil had gotten something in the dream too, he remembered. Some kind of flail or morning star or something…

He'd believe this was more than a dream when he saw Vergil's gift.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Upstairs, Vergil finished recording his dream and clicked off the recorder, pulling out a label-maker to record the data and pasting it onto the tape. He could listen to it later, and search for meanings hidden within the dream, clues to the musings and warnings of his inner subconscious, at his leisure.

But as he sat up to put recorder, label-maker, and tape back in the drawer beside the other dream-tapes, something icy-cold touched his bare back.

Frowning in puzzlement, Vergil leapt out of the bed and flung back the covers to see what had touched him.

His wintry-blue eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

Yamato was laying on the far side of the bed, and beside it was a flail with five heads. The fire and electrical heads had scorched the black-silk sheets, and the acidic one was eating a hole in the mattress. The poisonous head was oozing a slimy substance on the fabric. The ice head had rolled over to his side of the bed; that was what had touched him.

Natasha, the woman in the dream, had given him that flail.

Suddenly shaken, he went to his neatly-folded clothes, dug though the folds of his embroidered silk coat until he found the pocket where he kept his favorite gloves.

Only one glove was in the pocket. He didn't even bother searching for the mate.

He had given it to Natasha.

Disbelieving, he looked from the glove in his hand to the flail on his bed, and back again.

It hadn't been a dream.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _I just realized how corny that conversation between Vergil and Natasha sounds. Even for me, that's pretty bad._

Vergil: _You're making me sound like a simpering schoolboy, or that guy from _Titanic.

Dante: _You were a simpering schoolboy once. Remember Jessica? How you mooned over her?_

Vergil (narrows eyes dangerously at his brother): _Do you need another chest-piercing, brother?_

Queen (puts hand to head): _Guys, don't._

Dante (gets up to wrap Queen in his arms while she sits in the computer chair): _Queen, you okay?_

Queen: _I'm still mad at you for spending the dining room money at the Bulls Eye._

Vergil: _That isn't all she's angry about…_

Dante (resting his head on Queen's): _What's wrong, Queen?_

Queen (touching the arm around her neck with gentle fingers): _Class is just getting harder, that's all. I screwed up my schedule, and I'm worried that I'll lose my scholarships due to my own stupidity._

Dante: _Is that everything? _

Queen: _No._

Vergil: _Might as well tell him, Queen. He'll find out soon even if you don't._

Dante: _Find out what? _(stares down at Queen) _You aren't pregnant, right? You haven't slept with Vergil or anything, right?_

Queen: _No, worse. _

Dante: _What could be worse than that? _

(Vergil now has a very annoyed look on his face, which his twin does not notice)

Queen: _Your Harley was totaled and we can't afford a new one._

Dante: _My Harley was totaled? How?_

Queen (suddenly clawing at the arm around her neck): _Dante… Can't breathe…_

Vergil (getting up to pry Dante's arm off Queen's neck): _First of all, it wasn't Queen's fault. Nor was it mine. One of the teenagers on the block took his dad's car on a joyride and crashed it into your bike. Second of all, next time you get angry, don't take it out on your girlfriend. She can't hold her breath as long as you or I can. _

Dante (totally enraged): _The kid DIES!!!_

(grabs Rebellion, runs out door)

Queen: _Shit! Vergil, go stop him! I'll be out in a moment!_

Vergil: _Already on it!_

(runs after Dante with Yamato in hand)

Queen: _Review please, as always! Will move this fic to M soon, just as a precaution! Gotta go!_

(transmission ended)


	21. Life out of Death

**Summary**: Some weird idea I got a few nights ago, spawned in the depths of my twisted little mind. A woman from the Baldur's Gate games, one of my own characters, has to enlist Dante and Vergil to help her stop her own great-granddaughter from releasing the sealed power and essences of her father, the god of murder Bhaal, with the aid of the demons of their world.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dante and Vergil. Capcom does. I know the twins, but I can't claim ownership. Nor do I own the Forgotten Realms; that belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and the Baldur's Gate games are their joint property with TSR. Natasha and Laraedina, however, are totally mine. A lot of the other characters mentioned herein are also mine. No taking, or Ebony and Ivory will do the talking. You have been warned.

**Chapter Rating**: High T/ low M

Life out of Death

The candles guttered in the wind from an open window, heralding the chilly intrusion of the night air into the quiet temple. Ari'allayla, the High Songstress of the Song of the Morning Temple, hurried over to close the glass panes before returning to the bed in the center of the room, where she and two of her nereid sisters, as well as two female clerics and a matronly woman from Beregost, bustled around the female gasping in the bed.

Ari'allayla wiped a cool cloth across Natasha's sweating brow, gripped her hand tightly as another contraction washed over her. The elf-woman had been in labor for several hours now, longer than a woman with so many children should have taken. However, it was not a breech-birth, as they had feared. The midwife had thoroughly examined her patient, and declared that this baby was simply taking its sweet time leaving the warmth of its mother's womb.

"Who is the father, Natasha, my friend?" the pink-skinned siren implored of her. "Tell us, that we may contact him!"

Natasha shook her head furiously, then cried out as another pain radiated out from her overextended womb. The contractions were getting closer together now. The birth would occur very soon.

"Tell us! Please!"

"No! Ahhh, gods!"

"Natasha, he must know!"

"Can't tell – owwwww! – you! He's gone! Ahhh!"

"Get her legs up. Fileese, Luir'rill, pull her knees back. Nara'mira, grab that towel. Isadore, ready the herbal tea. She'll need it for the blood to coagulate once this is over." The midwife spoke with firm tones; she knew what had to be done, and she expected the females under her command to obey, for the good of the elf-woman and her soon-to-be-born child.

"Ahhhh-owww! Gods, I'd like to – yaaahhhh! – cut off his balls and stuff them down his – ahhh…ugh! – throat!"

"Get ready, Lady Nightsinger. I can see the head." The midwife bent between Natasha's wide-spread legs, ready to turn and catch the emerging infant. "Now, push!"

Natasha ground Ari'allayla's bones together in her hand, nearly cracked the wooden rail of the bed in the other as her muscles strained, bearing down on the entity stuck in her birth canal.

"Push!"

"Gods!" The elf-woman's head went back for a moment, briefly resting, before snapping back up as she redoubled her efforts.

"Almost done, Lady Nightsinger! Just a little more…"

_This can't go on_, Natasha's fevered brain whispered. _That big thing stuck down there, it must come out… It must…_

"Gonna…kill…him…AAAAHHHHH!!!!!" Natasha pushed harder than she ever had in her life, her torso pulling itself up into a sitting position while she strained, bearing down with every ounce of her strength…

And then it was over. The enraged wail of a newborn filled the quiet corridors of the inner temple as Natasha collapsed back against the pillows, nearly boneless with exhaustion. Through tired, proud eyes she watched the clerics and nereids clean and fuss over her child while the midwife helped her deliver the afterbirth, a duty that required little effort on Natasha's part. As soon as the baby was rubbed dry, the elf-woman held out her arms entreatingly.

"Give me my child, before you wrap it."

The clerics and youngest siren exchanged glances, but Ari'allayla and her younger sister, Luir'rill, bade them bring the child. Natasha, like all elven mothers, needed to have a flesh-to-flesh bond forged with her infant child before the baby was swaddled. The bond was stronger than anything most other mothers would share with their children, a link that was as old as life itself. The two nereids understood this, for Natasha was not the first elf-woman they had seen in childbirth.

Ari'allayla helped Natasha to slip her sleeveless shift to her waist and sit up against the carved headboard while Luir'rill retrieved the baby and carried it to the bed. Natasha took the baby – it was a boy, she noted – and laid it against her chest and shoulder, nuzzling the feather-soft hair lovingly.

He was perfect. Everything was in its proper place and nothing was missing. His hair was the same pristine white as his father's, and she had little doubt that his eyes would be the same shade of blue too. There was no physical evidence of the demon blood in his veins, but that would probably manifest later, when he had grown to adolescence. For now, he was just like any of the other half-elven babies she had borne.

The midwife, experienced in the ways of elven mother-child bonding, shooed the sirens and her assistants out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. She would return later, to make sure that Natasha and her son were still comfortable and that there were no complications. No words of instruction were needed; this was the thirteenth time the elf-woman had given birth. She knew how to breastfeed, how to wrap and diaper an infant. She knew to drink the herbal tea sitting by her bed.

The fire crackled in the hearth, and the baby fussed a bit, searching for sustenance. Natasha lowered him to the crook of her arm and gently traced her finger over his flushed features, petting his snowy hair as he greedily began to suckle. The netherspirits had spoken true in their prophecy. New life, that of her son, had come out of the death of Laraedina. Nobody else in the Realms remembered Dante or Vergil, but here was physical evidence that they had been here. Not even the gods could take this life away from her, from him.

He needed a name. She already had one picked out.

A combination of three bloods, in one body.

'Child of Mixed Bloods.'

"_Lei'a'zria, sin caras tehs'tha._"

Little one, child of my womb.

"_Si sireka ma'aleth Anjelo Larin'isthensil, ca'emel sin Natasha Larin'isthensil yill Vergil, ca'emel sin Sparda."_

Your name shall be Anjelo Nightsinger, son of Natasha Nightsinger and Vergil, Son of Sparda.

"_Aera'mill cra'an maraesuul sin si lameira yill an camar'ose sin si lameir."_

Grow strong with the love of your mother and the pride of your father.

Finished with the naming ritual, she pressed a soft kiss to his tiny head and relaxed back against the pillows to think. Anjelo was her thirteenth child, and the fifth to be carried and borne without his father's knowledge. Vergil would never know that Natasha had borne him a son, if he even remembered her.

It was a painful knowledge, that he would remain oblivious to the continuation of his blood on her world, but she had dealt with secret love-children before, when she had given birth to first Vorion, then Vashti, by Solaufein and then the twins Darthoridan and Ralanthis after her night with Narameth. Raising a child alone was nothing new to her.

But she had never raised a child with human, elven, _and_ demonic heritage before.

The fear that she would fail to keep him safe until he reached maturity was a very real one, but she held Anjelo to her breast, closed her eyes and reached for the tea with her free hand.

No one, not even the gods themselves, would take Anjelo from her before he was prepared and ready to take care of himself. She had the strength to raise him alone, to keep him from the gazes of those who would do him harm.

"I'll keep you safe," she murmured. "I swear it."

For the love she had shared with Vergil, for the love and promise of this child, she would do everything in her power to protect Anjelo's life.

_I know you will. I did, after all, for my sons._

The voice was quiet, obviously that of a human female. But there was no one else in the room, or even close to the door; Natasha's keen sense of hearing would have told her if there was. Who was the woman who had spoken inside her head just now?

'Sons,' she had said.

Could it be…

The thought gave her comfort, and Natasha settled herself more comfortably against the pillows, slipping into the trancelike dream-sleep of her people, the Reverie.

She had a feeling she would need all the strength she could muster to deal with the very different bloodlines that mingled within her son's tiny body.

Gorion had managed to deal with her Bhaalspawn heritage, Dante and Vergil's mother with their conflicting blood. Both of them had managed to protect their charges until they were strong enough to control their darker sides, to protect themselves.

She would do the same for Anjelo.

As a mother, that was all she could do.

The rest would be up to him.

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _And so "Sins of the Father" comes to an end! Didja like it? I honestly didn't think it would turn out so well. But once I put down the first chapter, the story basically wrote itself. Perhaps there will be a sequel later, where Anjelo tries to track down his father and revive the memories of his mother in Vergil's mind, but if there is then I will take a while to write it. And don't worry, if there is a sequel, Tlaneskiar and Ssalinisthiira will make a reappearance. Their memories were wiped clean as well, but they are demons, after all. _

Dante: _I thought it was pretty good, but I wish I could have caught some action with Natasha. She was a babe!_

Vergil: _It wasn't as bad as I originally believed it would be. The idea that I got the girl, for once, is actually a highly intriguing one…_(gives Queen the once-over thoughtfully)

Dante (getting up to place a possessive hand on her shoulder): _No way, bro. Find your own woman. Lady might be willing to accommodate you._

Queen (smiling wickedly):_ Be serious, Dante. You know she'd be far more likely to try and blow him up rather than get with him. _

Vergil: _Besides, I prefer my women to have hair longer than that. Gives me something to grab onto._

Dante (giving Queen's long hair a frown): _Leave her hair alone. For that matter, leave _Queen_ alone. Go out for once! You know that there are plenty of girls out there who would love to spend some time you. _

Vergil (snorts): _Yeah, a ton of fan-girls. They'd be all over me in an instant._

Dante: _And the problem with this is…_

Vergil: _I don't just get with any girl right off the street or with my fans, as you have been known to do. _

Queen (stopping Dante from killing his brother): _Ahem, guys? I tell you what: you don't try and kill each other for today, and I'll give you something. Dante, I'll give Ebony and Ivory back to you. Vergil, you can have some peace and quiet for tonight. Dante and I will go to a hotel. _

Dante: _Agreed. Just gimme my guns, already._

Vergil: _No sleeping pills for once. A truly welcome thought. _

Queen: _Very well. See ya in the next fic, people! Review, please! And if I'm feeling generous, I'll be playing more transmissions for you in my next new fic! This story does tie in with "My Angel" and "Innocence Lamented, Innocence Lost," believe it or not! All of my fics tie together in a single timeline! Now, if you'll excuse us…_

(transmission ended)


End file.
